


Soulmate

by Freckled_Chickenugget



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A WHOLE LOT OF TRIGGERS, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Comfort Sex, Cutting, Depressed!Marco, Depression, Erwin is a therapist beware, High School, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Side Springles, Side anniexArmin kind of not really, Supportive Sasha, TRIGGERS UP THE ASS, Underage Drinking, fuck ton of triggers, im serious, punk!jean, side reibert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckled_Chickenugget/pseuds/Freckled_Chickenugget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt has a crippling case of depression, but that doesn't stop him from trying to make everybody else's life better. On the first day of senior year, though, a new boy that is the holy embodiment of punk rock music walks into Marco's art class. This boy is Jean Kirschtien, and he happens to be the only person Marco can't figure out, and the first person too ever get under Marco's skin. Marco knows Jean is bad news, but can't help but love the guy, and it hurts him, bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fUCK TON OF TRIGGERS
> 
> Things will get worse as the storyline progresses  
> please don't yell at me i'm warning you now
> 
> Marco is a sad piece of shit and Jean is rad but sad
> 
> beware of therapist!Erwin  
> I have depression so I understand that part pretty well, and I've studied PTSD so I know a decent amount about that. Marco will not be miserable all the time, he is still friendly, team-work loving Marco. Now cutting on the other hand, I have never done myself. I have studied it a little, but i'm pretty sure studying it will not be able to cover the whole feeling.  
> oh and there is probably a shit ton of typos in here 
> 
> Enjoy maybe ^^*?

_What is A soulmate?_

_It's a.. Well, it's like a best friend, but more. It's the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It's someone who makes you a better person, well, actually they don't make you a better person... you do that yourself-- because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. It's the one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens.. you'll always love them._

**XXX**

 

I looked down at the fresh, clean bandages covering my arms. They were not itchy, nor uncomfortable, just a little tight was all. They made me gnaw my lip in anxiety, as everybody could see the shame that hid behind those white, friendly strips of cotton. Even if the bandages were not see through, everybody could tell what was hiding. They wrapped from my wrists to my elbows on both arms, and they felt awkward, sitting there over healing cuts. My arms wrested on my lap, my thumbs fighting with each other, my hands glued to my twiddling thumbs. I tried to imagine as if they were talking to each other, tough wrestling terms or something. Anything to keep me distracted from the white room. It reminded me too much of the hospital, and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t the hospital exactly, similar, but not. No bodies being wheeled in. No Marco Bodt screaming and pulling with all his might at the restraints. With everybody staring at him, me, like he, I, was a madman.

I don’t beileve I was a madman. I probably was messed up, but not mad. Mad was completely different. My brain had been broken down to the point where If I was scared I would attack, like an animal, but I didn’t mean it, honest. I hardly remembered my flashes, all I could remember was how scared I was. I could tell I had been screaming at the hospital as my voice felt hoarse and weak still, and there was purple hand marks around my shoulders from doctors and my mother trying to hold me back from escape. Plus my mom wasn’t very happy with me.

My mother stared, and he stared. The most malicious thing about this whole ordeal was that my mom, everytime he saw me now, she would look at me in anger and confusion with the few words; “Get over it.”

I wish I could get over ‘it’. The problem being I don’t know what ‘it’ is. Nobody knows what ‘it’ is. Whatever it was, I flashed, and don’t remember anything but the fear. It was a long time ago when ‘it’ began, and ‘it’ ruined me. ‘It’ ruined my whole, entire, innocent life. But my life had now reached his peak as another somewhat suicide failed and my parent caught me. Now i’m here, numb, my voice raspy and harsh from crying and struggling for two days straight. Now i’m not going to go commit suicide, but if I die, it happens and I don’t mind too much.

She think i’m going to stop cutting, but I doubt that will happen. I don’t want to disobey

her, but cutting is really such a great relief and a good way to get out my stress, I can’t stop. Without my razors I can still do it, I don’t think my mom realize that. I hope she doesn't feel bad, they really shouldn’t. It’s not like I hate myself, I’m just confused and a little scared, and it's not her fault.

So I sat, numb, needing a sweater, and with a scratchy throat and stupid bandages. In the quiet room, the almost empty room, with no parents surrounding me. Mom called me twice to make sure I was still at the therapy office, but I was almost completely alone. The grey, ugly carpet beneath my feet wasn’t very comforting, but being alone was. A wooden door opened near the end of the office, a tall, skinny lady with her hair in a bun stepped through the door, and called the name that made me cringe. My name.

“Marco Bodt?”

I awkwardly stood up, brushing off my bandaged arms, and stepped forward once, before pausing.

I wasn’t mad. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not crazy. Just scared. I’m not a monster. Slow inhale, long exhale. Deep breaths cleared the system.

I took another step. And another. Before walking towards the woman.

My eyes scanned a family waiting in the family room, I wondered why they were here. They looked happy, a husband or another child must be in there. The blonde, littlest girl pulled on her mother’s sleeves.

“Mommy, why does that boy have bandages on his arms?”

I bit my lip. Don’t look at me like that. I am not a monster.

The mother looked distraught for a few moments, and she stared back at me, never giving her child an answer. I know what she was thinking, probably something along the lines of ‘He’s so young’.

I turned my head to face forward again. Don’t look like that. I am not mad. I swallowed down the words burning to get out. The words I wanted to badly scream out at them.

That lady walked me through the halls silently. She tried to talk to me, but I only responded with a nod, and I think that might have mentally chased her off. I’m good at doing that when I’m upset.

We stopped at a door, the lady stopping. I eyed her curiously, my eyes asking permission to enter instead of my vocal chords. I talked, I wasn't one of those people who doesn't talk, but I just find it easier to use less words. I can get where the people who don't talk come from though.

"This is your room," she said quietly, urging her head towards the door. I nodded, I could feel the awkwardness coming off of her.

I easily slipped through the wooden door, it made a quiet creaking sound which made me jump a little. Inside was a much more comforting room. It used dark tones for a cozy atmosphere, a window sat at the edge of the room, a deep purple loveseat chair cuddling a pillow, sitting next to a nightstool. It almost made me want to snuggle down amongst some blankets and fall asleep. The room was warm too, a comfortable warm, a cozy warm.

Another male sat at a desk. He had straight, blonde hair that was slicked back, and blue eyes that stuck out to in his sturdy-looking skull it was almost scary. He looked strong, I could see where the muscles made indents in his shirt. But he still looked extremely gentle, his soft expression, the way he looked at me made me comfortable but yet not at the same time. He looked like a proud, but friendly lion. I swallowed nervously. A golden nameplate rested on his desk that read ‘Erwin Smith’’. He smiled at me, but it wasn’t so much as a happy smile than a greeting smile.

“Good evening, Marco, right?” He had the kind of voice I thought he’d have. Deep, and a little raspy.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, nodding as I stood there. I didn’t know if I could sit or not. I swallowed, was this going to be weird? My fingertips started to stroke and pull at the bandages, anxiety thing I guess.

“You can sit,” He said with a small amused laugh, nodding his head towards a chair. I bit my lip and nodded, taking a step towards the chair before the man asked me another question. “Need something to play with other than your bandages?”

I quickly nodded, it kind of hurt to fiddle with my bandages, so I should take up the offer. It’s not like I constantly wanted to cause awful pain to myself and think about death all the time. I hardly thought about dying, if it happens it happens. It’s not like I have a horrible urge to cause pain to myself, pain sucks. Cutting is just so much of a relief, it’s hard to explain. Toris bent down behind his desk and came back up, holding one of those stress-balls or whatever. I had a few of those at home. He handed it over to me with a quiet “Here ya go.”

I paced back and sat down in the purple chair, curling my legs against my body. I rubbed a piece of the ball between my thumb and forefinger, now quietly looking around the room. My front teeth still nibbled my bottom lip, pulling my lips back softly.

“So, Marco,” My new therapists voice snapped me out of my previous activity of looking around the room, “My name is Erwin.”  I nodded. “I already know a little about you when your mom signed you up, your hospital visits, hobbies,” Erwin looked at a small stack of papers and shot me another smile, “Normal stuff.”

I nodded again, not knowing exactly how to react. “Okay.” Usually i’m a little more lively. For a guy with a killer depression, i’m pretty good at completely masking it. But, like I said, I’m not thinking of death all the time. I’m happy. I’m perfectly happy but yet I cut, I have no clue why.

“Now, maybe if you would want to give me a little summary of things?” Erwin said, cocking his head, “If you don’t thats fine, we just met, so if you’re uncomfortable that’s alright.” I’m not sure how I feel about this guy. He seems nice, maybe helpful? Well i’ve only known him for about two minutes, so I really can’t say.

“Um, yeah,” I murmured, nodding. I didn’t mind telling him, he was my therapist, so I could trust him in the least. “Well, in uh, seventh grade I was diagnosed with Dysthymia. Long term depression, you know. After that in eighth grade my parents had a divorce, my mom took me. I don’t think that damaged me too much, I miss my dad, but a lot of other people are going through the same thing. Well, anyways, mom started to beileve I had post Traumatic Stress, but I was never tested for it. We think something happened to me when I was young, but I can’t really remember,” I kept my voice quiet and plain, not wanting to warm up immediately to this guy, especially because of what happened two days ago. “And I flash a lot. Like, if I get scared apparently I just freak out, and I never remember it afterwards.” I swallowed, what else was there? Nothing completely heartbreaking has ever happened to me. Just dirty looks have slowly turned me into this. “I was kind of bullied, not really, but I got looks sometimes. But everyone gets dirty looks. I’m actually kind of popular in school.” I shrugged my shoulders.

Erwin nodded. I thought he was going to say something like ‘sounds normal’ or ‘suck it up’ like my mom, something like that, but he nodded with that same kind expression. He finally spoke up, “It’s hard, having depression when you’re a teen. Especially since you were diagnosed in middle school, thats when social pressure really begins.”

I nodded slowly. “We could also get you some testing for PTSD, but i’m guessing you don’t want to have it done?”

“Yeah,” I nodded again, “I guess once I was diagnosed with depression I just kind of... Embraced it. I just hope I don’t have PTSD, I mean, so that nothing truly happened to me.” I did hope nothing happened to me, but yet, I wanted it to be true. Something to blame my depression on so people don’t think i’m an attention whore, which the last thing I want is attention. Well, attention is wonderful, but in large doses it isn’t, at least to me. And I would never, ever make up some sob story to get attention.

“Yeah, I get that,” Erwin said with a nod and a soft smile. I put on the smallest smile possible in return. “Well, I would like to get to know you a little bit more before we really start therapy, hm?” I hummed in response, looking down at the stress ball. I didn’t really want some man I hardly knew helping me, either. “Your mom told me you like to draw.”

I perked up slightly at that. “Yeah, I do.” I wasn’t serious into art, I wasn’t serious into anything, but art was something I could do easily. I didn’t feel as if I didn’t want too or it was hard for me. It was nice, and really just relaxing.

“Well, I was thinking about something called art therapy for you,” Erwin said, tapping his sausage- fingers on his desk. “You know about that, correct?” It sounded generic, but I really didn’t know what it was entirely. I shook my head no. “It’s where you draw whatever is on your mind, it’s been pretty helpful with people with depression and PTSD.”

“Whatever i’m feeling?” I asked quietly, “And no one sees it?” I did draw, maybe I had drawn some vent once or twice, but most of it was random lines on paper and people.

“Unless you want them too.” I nodded in reply, biting on my lip again. That may be okay. I guess I had never tried doing that, maybe it could help. At this point there was really no more negative feelings left in my body, anyways. It couldn’t hurt.

Erwin explained to me how he hoped I could learn to trust him, which I did too. A friend would be nice, someone to talk to, even if he was an adult and i’m only seventeen. Someone to listen to me would be nice. Erwin told me how the next three or so weeks would be more trust stuff so I was comfortable, and then we could get into the real therapy. Which didn’t sound awful. I had nothing better to do, so it wasn’t like it was painful to go. A lot of people say they were afraid to go to therapy, but I was messed up and I knew it, and I needed therapy. But I wasn’t mad. Scared, sad, and messed up. Needing help.

I left with a new sketchbook and colored pencils in my hands. Into the scalding summer heat, a 17-year-old, six foot one, teenager reduced to a child as I shuffled to my moms car awkwardly, cradling my sketchbook in an arm and that arm in another arm. My scratched up, beaten arms, hiding under clean, friendly bandages shook despite the heat, my pale skin burned against the sunlight, my weak frame stumbling through the parking lot, I looked like a mess. And I was a mess, so it really didn’t matter. I told my mom about the ordeal as she drove me home. Mom wasn’t like dad. Mom wasn’t mean, but she wasn’t a fun parent either. She was more strict, and careful of what I did, and I swear to god she never smiles. Or at least now. When I was little the world was amazing, and she was amazing. But now, not so much. But she’s my mom, and I love her. She’s a little upset at me right now for cutting, though.

But the sad part is i’m not going to stop. I want to, but I don’t. I’m not doing this to hurt my parents, to hurt anyone, to get attention to myself, to even hurt myself. I’m not doing this to hurt myself. Cutting is such a relief, sleeping for hours is such a relief, avoiding social activity is such a relief, avoiding anything is such a relief.

I don’t mind social activity. I have to admit I’m a bit of a people-pleaser. But sleep is the best thing to happen to anyone ever. And icecream.

**  
  
**

**XXX**

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

I enjoyed narrating my life inside my head. Just as a joke. Like while I was walking to the bus this morning. It made things see a little brighter.

“Here comes the wild Marcous Bodticus, shuffling its way to the hunting ground called school. This one seems to be a bit overweight because of the large amounts of ice cream in its diet.” I couldn’t help but crack a smile, standing by the bus stop in my wool hoodie. Hey, the first day of school is pretty shitty, but i’ve realized that embracing the sadness will not make anything better. I can only embrace the sloth and the tears when I’m home, in my bed, with no plans. But I might as well drag my way to school with a good attitude for once.

I also thought up some mental-dialog as I entered the bus which was full of high schoolers of different classes and grades, all of them either screeching or dead silent. A few people yelled “Hey Marco!” And I would wave back with a friendly smile. I’m that kid, the one who’s all shy and awkward, but yet so insanely nice that no one would possibly bully me.

“Next, the Marcous Bodticus carefully maneuvers it’s way through the deadly pit of predators, looking for it’s special seat in the way back where no one can make eye contact with it.” I thought with a mental chuckle.

Even entering the hell-hole called ‘school’, I managed to some how stay positive, even though the scars under my hoodie sleeves were hissing; “No!”

My relationship with school was complicated. The learning part was okay, homework was shit, but everything else was perfectly fine. I’d just much rather be at home, sleeping, or eating icecream. I don’t really have any friends, I’m just friendly with everyone. I’m a people pleaser and I know it. But, no friends. The closest people I have to friends are Reiner and Bertholdt, we used to be much closer in middle school, but once mom found out they were gay she chased them off. We still talk sometimes, but not much. I’m not even sure if I want a real friend, I’m scared too. Because they’ll get close to me, and I’ll make them upset, just like how I made my mom upset. I really don’t want that. Plus I don’t like the whole idea of a ‘rush’, while most boys my age do, so it’s hard to make close friends.

Since I was a senior, it was like there wasn’t even a summer break, I was just going to school, as normal. There was nothing new and shiny about it, same old story, same old highschool. A few new faces, and a whole new herd of bratty freshman, but nothing too overwhelming. Anyways, I usually just spaced out for the first few days of school, I didn’t feel the need to listen to what we needed to do during emergencies that would never, ever happen, and all the annoying ‘what if’ questions that came from some of the students. Now I didn’t get along with everyone, there was this one group of boys who didn’t give a shit if you were nice or not. They really didn’t target me, they didn’t really target anyone. They usually called me a fag or something like that, but not that I care. I’m a ‘fag’. Since when was that bad? I feel bad, just a little for being gay, if my mom finds out she’ll murder me. But no one would ever date me so I assume she’ll never find out.

Soon came the only class I really, somewhat cared about. Art class. I knew for a fact in this class that I could break out the old sketchbook and not get scolded at. The art teacher was a weirdo, so she let us draw whenever. The art room was a plain, white room with a ton of paint and supplies thrown about, with five wooden tables along with a stool. Each table seated four, of course, I was the one who went to the very back room and sat at the table with no one else.I promptly sat down, pulling down the sleeves of my hoodie. Since it’s been a good week since I had checked out of the hospital, thank fully, I’m back to my normal calm, gentle self. No shaking like mad when people look at me, no falling under the border of socially accepted into socially awkward, and no doubting myself. No one knew that under my calm, gentle nature was a fucking freak. At least I had never had an attack at school. The scariest thing about the attacks was they came out of the random, I knew I had certain triggers, but I had a lot, and none of them were connected. Once, I thought maybe I had been raped. I freaked out once when someone touched me, and my mom had to hold me down until I calmed (Thankfully I was little. Now I’m fucking huge.), but then I saw a picture of a guitar hanging on a wall and I got really queasy and couldn’t stop staring at it. It’s weird.

The rest of the students started slowly entering as most of us were already there. But, a second before the bell rang, some boy who struck dread in my chest walked through the door.

Holy fucking leather and piercings. This guy was the king of it.

He brought some kind of dread into the room, along with some choppy undercut that was slicked to the side, the hairs on the top a light ashen while the shaven part a deep black. His haircut obviously wasn’t the only thing about him though, this guy’s appearance was busy. A pair of piercings stuck out of his bottom lip like a snake had bitten him as well as one through his left nostril, all of them silver buds. He wore some cheap, black leather jacket, hell, this guy was probably wearing eyeliner. His clothes weren’t even the gist of it, his expression, his face, the way he walked, everything about him was menacing in every way possible. His frown, his tensed eyebrows, the slight slouch he had, everything. I want to say he’s attractive, which he is attractive, his features are everything a girl would look for, but at the same time he’s damn scary.

With my luck, the only remaining seat was neck to me. In no time leather-jacket was sitting next to me, plopping himself down in the chair in such a crude manner I thought he would just knock the stool over. I swallowed thickly.

He must be new. I would remember if I saw him.

I quickly tried to talk myself out of my unease. He’s just a dude. If he was wearing a graphic T and jeans I wouldn’t be freaked out, he’s just another guy.

“Jean.”

I froze.

“What?” I said, the word hardly leaving my throat. He didn’t even stutter, just bam, he spoke, right then and there. It came in without warning. He didn’t even sound scary, he sounded perfectly normal, but it scared me half to death.

“My name.” He said, and I noticed the two of us were basically whispering, but yet he sounded so much louder and prouder than me in my ears, “It’s Jean.”

“O-oh,” I murmured, nodding. Of course it’s his name, stupid... Why is he even telling me this? Maybe he wants to be friends? Well, I highly doubt that, someone like him would never want to be friends with someone like me. Mister Leath- I mean, Jean started at me expectedly, one of his skinny eyebrows raising in confusion. “Oh! Marco, yeah, I’m Marco. Bodt. Marco Bodt.” I flashed him the biggest smile I could manage, but I probably looked like a terrified cheshire cat. Nice going me.

Jean nodded, and smiled softly, rolling his eyes at my pathetic-excuse for a smile. That smile didn’t match the clothes. It was gentle, and kind, like one of my smiles, but yet kind of amused. Hell I was pretty amusing when I was nervous like this I had to admit. “If we’re telling each other last names, then mine’s Kirschstein.” A french first name and a german last name. Weird.

Once the art teacher called everyone’s attention, everyone slowly fell to silence. She talked about normal class rules, which I already knew about from last year. I couldn’t stop my nervous glancing over to Jean, checking to see if he had started summoning the devil or something. I couldn’t bring myself to draw either, with him watching me I felt suddenly way too pressured.

Half way through the class, I heard the quiet noise of paper ripping next to me, and I glanced over to see Jean sliding a small piece of paper to me, but his plain facial expression made it look like a ghost had possessed his hand to do so. But, eventually he tapped the space next to the paper, glancing over at me with a second-long eyebrow raise, his amber eyes looking over to me with slight amusement.

I sighed quietly, and tried my best to slyly flip over the note without anyone seeing.

_“I like your freckles.”_ It said, along with a horrible little drawing of who I’m guessing was me.

My hand mindlessly went over my cheek, stroking a line down it to prove some sort of point. My freckles. They covered every inch of my body with an ugly, deep brown color. They scattered over my cheeks and the bridge of my nose like someone decided to flick brown paint on my face. Then they disappeared down my neck, but then reappeared, spotting my shoulders and down my arms, covering my chest and torso, covering my legs like a sky of dark brown stars. I even had some on my butt, hell, I had some on my dick. My dad was the freckle king, and I am the freckle prince.

I probably flushed a bright pink, yet I was able to scribble down on the other side of the paper;

_“I like your hair.”_ I scribbled down, along with a just-as-awful drawing of him.

Jean smiled somewhat once he saw the note I had written back, shaking his head a with a small, amused grunt. Now I couldn’t stop rubbing my cheeks because he mentioned by freckles, no one mentioned my freckles, and it made me feel kinda weird but yet flattered. I didn’t really hate my freckles, I’d just prefer if they weren’t there.

Jean had one, lone freckle on the shell of his ear.

We didn't talk much the whole rest of class. He just shot me glances -probably looking at my stupid freckles-, and I shot him glances, trying to look at his smaller details more. I wasn’t going to stare, though, staring is weird. He has a really cool eyecolor, it’s like, amber or something. And when his piercings hit the light they get kind of rainow-y. And his jaw clenches when he’s focused, hollowing out his cheeks a little. He definitely is an intense kind of guy, his eyebrows have been furrowed this whole time. It probably looked weird, the shy, quiet kid who usually preferred to keep to himself sitting next to leather-jacket and piercings. Not that I minded, Jean seemed to keep to himself, so I didn’t really care if he was sitting next to me. I didn’t care how I looked in other people’s eyes, so if the embodiment of punk music was sitting next to me, I didn’t give a damn.

**XXX**

Unlike other people that were like me, lunch was not a hassle. A lot of people felt pressured during lunch, nobody wanted to sit alone no matter how anti-social they were. I was friends with everybody. I wasn’t overly friendly, but I was nice to people, I valued teamwork, I would finish someone’s homework for them, almost everybody likes me, I could sit at any table besides the table that the douchebags of the school sat at. Ah, the douchebags of the school, the guys who still thought low-hanging-pants were still cool and told girls to ‘make them a sandwich’. Nobody liked them but themselves.

Trotting around the lunchroom to find my best pick on who to sit with, I spotted that un-missable, sweaty giant of a seventeen-year-old, Bertholdt Fubar. He was shy, but overly shy. He was probably going to the library, but I assumed he was looking for his boyfriend Reiner first. Bertl and I were friends, he was the closest person I had to a best friend. But mom found out he was gay and chased him out, so Bertholdt and I aren’t too close anymore. Still, sitting with someone familiar would be good.

Even with the group of girls with flower-crowns in their hair beckoning to me with a sickly sweet; ‘Marco, sit with us!’ I slated towards my large, sweaty friend. Another reason why people didn’t like Bertholdt too much was because he had a really bad sweating problem he couldn’t help, but he was phenomenal in sports. The poor guy just wanted to blend into the background but his size screwed it up.

I knew not to call him out, Bertholdt hated that because then everyone would stare at him, so I just waved until he noticed me before trotting over. I hadn’t seen him in a while, we hadn’t really talked, only through facebook.

“Hey Bertholdt,” I said with the friendliest smile I could manage, and Bertholdt did the same. It was nice seeing him smile, Bertl usually looked either sad or nervous, I think that was just the way his face was though.

“Hi Marco, have you seen Reiner?” Bertholdt said quietly, cocking his head to the side. I think he figured out that asking someone that after they hadn’t seen them for three months was kind of rude. “I mean, uh, how was your summer?”

“Could’ve been better,” I said with a small shrug, “And no, I haven’t seen Reiner. I might’ve seen Annie on the way in, though.” Annie was also one of Bertholdt’s friends, which was weird, because Annie was probably the scariest person in the whole school. She was tiny, wore her pretty blonde hair in a ponytail, but hell, if you got on her bad side she was horrifying. She flipped Reiner over once with such ease, and Reiner is two hundred pounds, while Annie is probably around ninety five pounds. She’s insane. And Bertholdt is probably the softest person in the whole school, and he’s friends with her. Weird. Annie and I got along alright, but that was mostly because I’m nice to her and I don’t find pushing buttons entertaining.

Bertl nodded, and his face quickly turned a bright red shade. He glanced down at me suggestively, his lips pushing together in the most pathetic expression i’ve ever seen a guy his size make. “U-Uh, Marco, maybe you’d.. Uh..”

“Help you look for her?”

“Yeah, that.” Bertholdt took a deep exhale, and along with the breath he had been saving his blush disappeared too. Bertholdt was a funny guy. A chuckled, patting the small of his back as we progressed through the cafeteria.

Since it was the first day of school, a lot of people were hugging and telling each other mostly false ‘I missed you’s to each other. I was absently mindedly looking around, keeping an eye out for anyone I knew, until I heard Bertholdt harshly suck in a breath, and the loud screech coming from down the hall of someone I definitely recognized.

“Get back here you bitch!”

“Never!”

One of these things is not like the other.

Wheeling down the hall almost impossibly fast was Sasha Braus, the world’s fastest eater, and runner when it came to food. We were kind of familiar with each other, in a way, only because I was the only person who’d let her have my food. She wore her normal ponytail, and her 90’s clothing, speeding down the cafeteria with a pair of cosmic brownies in each hand. And her boyfriend Connie followed close behind, not quite being able to keep up. The two of them almost knocked Bertholdt down, as we were right in the middle of Sasha’s stampeding.

“Those are mine, you peice of shit!”

Yes. They’re dating. I have no clue how they even manage to look at each other because all they do is swear at each other and steal each others food. One time I left the school to see Sasha just nonchalantly sitting on Connie, eating a bag of chips while Connie struggled to get her off.

To my surprise, following Connie, was that big block of man that had somehow claimed Bertholdt as his boyfriend, Reiner Braun. Bertholdt immediately stopped the whole uncomfortable, awkward shy thing, running over to his boyfriend. Reiner was different, but not a Bertholdt different, or a Connie-Sasha different, or even a mister leather-jac- I uh, mean Jean different. He surely wasn’t Berthold's type, but somehow they had been together since seventh grade. And it wasn’t a forced relationship either, these two loved each other more than anything in the whole world.

They smooched, greeted each other, and then immediately assumed ‘couple stance’, the whole holding hands thing, bulky shoulder pressed against bulkier shoulder, and Bertholdt didn’t look so awkward anymore. “Oi, Marco!” Reiner called, waving the hand that wasn’t intertwined with Berthold's slender fingers.  

“Hi Reiner,” I said quietly, loud enough for him to hear me. He smiled his normal Reiner smile, something cocky but yet kind of sweet, before walking over to me and placing his free arm around my shoulders. This is weird.

“How’s are favorite freckled friend doing?”

Ah, again with the freckles.

“Okay,” I said with a smile, “I’m still not crazy yet.”

“That’s good,” Reiner said with a hearty chuckle, slapping my back hard enough to make me flinch.

Being gay was not good, at least here it wasn’t. You’d get made fun of, beat on, shamed. At this highschool it wasn’t sweet, no one thought you were cute, people would find you utterly disgusting. The thing with Bertl and Reiner, though, was that the both of them were huge. Reiner wouldn’t waste a second on breaking someone’s jaw if anyone made fun of his boyfriend, and may I remind you, they’re friends with Annie Leonhardt. Annie would crush anyone who made her boys hurt. But me? I have no one. The school cannot find out i’m gay and it never, ever will. I’m not taking any risks.

Reiner led me and Bertholdt to their table, kind of forcefully too, but Bertholdt didn’t seem to mind as much as I did. He was actually nuzzling Reiner’s hair, and Reiner would laugh, and I’d go ‘shit this is weird’ in my head. The two of them are an adorable couple, but i’m pressed against the two of them and it’s kind of awkward for me. I was glad to see that Connie and Sasha were sitting at the table, Sasha nibbling on a brownie while Connie wore a expression that only read ‘fuck you’, but the two still begrudgingly held hands. Cute.

Sasha and Connie weren’t the only ones there, though. Annie sat, wearing that one-thousand-mile stare, breaking it too look up at Reiner and Bertholdt, looking at me with a dismissive snort.

I was a bit shocked to see the human embodiment of the ‘rich snapchats’ sitting at the table, Eren Yeager. He was the son of the very successful doctor Yeager and rich as balls, sitting next to his not-so-rich best friend, and the biggest book-worm the school had, Armin Arlert. Armin was nice, I probably related to him the best. He liked to stay out of the way of things, but he was friendly, like me. But Armin was a whole hell of a lot smarter than me, but he really didn’t stay calm like I did. Armin and I were allies, and we certainly had the potential to become close. I waved, and I walked over to sit next to Armin, but I stopped dead once I got a; “Marco?” from the other side of the table.

Glancing over to the voice, there sat mister Jean Kirschstein, still having the same arua that he had in art class. Instead of Armin, I awkwardly shuffled over and sat next to Jean. He smiled a little, and I smiled back, and Eren broke out into a fit of giggles, earning a disappointed sigh of ‘Eren...’ from Armin.

“You know Jean, Marco?” Eren asked, smiling in amusement. He was clearly holding back, I had done Eren’s homework for him whenever Armin refused to, so we both settled on an agreement that I’d do his homework and he wouldn’t be rude to me, or talk bad about me, that kind of thing. Jean grunted frustratedly, and before I could answer, Jean hissed back a remark.

“We go to the same school, idiot.” I swallowed nervously, glancing over to Bertholdt, Reiner and Annie. Reiner and Annie stayed emotionless, while Bertholdt could sense my dread and was hanging on to Reiner’s beefy arm. Jean flared his pierced nostrils, and Eren’s grin disappeared. Armin nervously shifted, and now I was wishing Eren’s bodyguard and step sister hadn’t graduated last year.

“Horseface.”

“Spoiled fucking brat.”

These two know each other? I’ve never, ever seen Jean in my entire life before today, and Eren has always gone to this school. Apparently they know each other or else I don’t think they’d be calling each other names. Eren’s usually a pretty decent guy, I know he has an angry side, but i’ve never seen him lash out at anyone so fast.

“Eren...” Armin murmured worriedly, now that Mikasa was gone, I’m assuming Armin’s going to try and keep Eren out of trouble. And with Armin’s timid nature, I doubt he’s going to do a very good job.

Jean slammed his hands down on the table. Okay, that was enough.

“Just calm down, you two,” I hissed, the two of them glancing at me. Eren grumbled something angrily, crossing his arms and looking towards Armin, while Jean just sighed and shook his head. Even though I prefer to keep the drama down low, I know that sometimes to keep it down I probably have to act up. Unlike Bertholdt, I actually have a say in things, even though I’m not at all close to these people. Being nice gets me places, they respect me. Even Mikasa respected me, she was tough, and never let anyone get near Eren or Eren get near anyone, and still, somehow she respected me. Plus, I was kind of big, I was the second tallest next to Bertholdt, and my hoodies usually covered the fact that I was a little chubby so I could be somewhat threatening. Too much comfort food equals chubbiness.

After a while of awkward silence, besides Connie and Sasha who were now feeding each other chips in a noisy fashion, Armin started talking, more so to me. “So you two met?” He said calmly, not wanting to start anything up again. I heard Jean grunt angrily, but the partial blonde kept his mouth shut. Apparently his personality did match his clothes, jeesh, he is kind of irritable if he reacted that fast.

I swallowed, a little nervous to speak up because of the short fight that just occurred. “Yeah. We have art together.” Armin nodded, biting his lip while his blue eyes looked around, thinking shortly about the information I just gave him. I didn’t think I should tell him that Jean told me that he liked my freckles.

“Eren, Sasha, Connie and I used to go to school with him, back in middle school, that’s how we know him if your curious.” Armin flashed me a second-long smile, not wanting Eren or Jean to catch it.

“Cool,” I uttered, glancing awkwardly around the table. Connie had put two chips in his mouth like a duck bill and quacking and Sasha was laughing like an idiot. Sasha wasn’t the most graceful girl, but she was super, duper nice sometimes. She was really supportive and encouraging, I wished we were closer. She could be a jerk sometimes, but couldn’t we all? Sasha wasn’t worried about her image, and she was a big girl, so it took a lot of gut to fight her. Unless you were Connie, her and Connie fought all the time. I think they like fighting, though.

Continuing my observing, since I had recently found out I was a observant little shit, I realized Annie didn’t have any lunch, and like the gentleman I was I offered mine too her. Of course, Sasha let out a howl and I immediately dropped my offer. Annie quietly thanked me, though. I think she understood I did not want to get in a tussle with Sasha over food.

Armin had eventually pulled out a book, Eren was sneaking a few peaks at Armin’s book, Bertholdt and Reiner were busy doing Reiner and Bertholdt things, Annie was also ready a book (probably one Armin had let her borrow), Sasha and Connie were fooling around with each other, and everybody but Jean and I had something to do. So, the immediate thing to do was maybe try and strike up a conversation with him, so things wouldn’t be awkward and we weren’t the only two sitting there without doing anything.

“So, um, Jean...” I muttered slowly, and in the most awkward way I possibly could. The whole leather jacket thing is still freaking me out.

“Yeah?” It certainly wasn’t his happy tone that he had used in art class. I swallowed.

“I uh, I don’t know,” I rubbed my freckled-covered cheek, “Wanna talk or something?”

Jean shrugged, and suddenly I was no longer seeing the boy I had met in art class. He looked even more tough now, no trace of that smile he flashed me after we had our little introduction.

Silence fell once more, and this time I didn’t try to bring it back. There was no point. Instead I just looked at the lonely freckle on the shell of the partial-blonde’s ear, feeling sorry for the poor, lonesome dot.

**XXX**

Jean was back to ‘himself’ in art class. I really wasn’t sure who Jean was at this point, if he niceness was his real personality, or that whole tough thing was his real personality. I prefered the nice side better, at least, so I tried to stick on that side of him.

We talked a little during art. Eventually I got the courage to draw my own stuff in front of him, and our small talk progressed into more small talk, and I got even more courage to draw, and eventually this all led up to me drawing a side-view of my punk friend.

“Holy shit, Marco, you’re good,” He said once I was done, his smile large and appreciative.

“Aw, thanks.”

Jean snorted in amusement, pointing to the sketch-version of himself’s hair.

“Man, my hair is dumb.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh  
> Shit  
> this ones bad
> 
> Introducing Marco's mom  
> and a little bit of his shitty family

_You see, my friend, there's no one who can love you more,_

_Than your very own parents, that's for sure._

_Always remember that this is true,_

_That wherever you go, your parents will be there for you._

**XXX**

My mom gets mad at me a lot.

I’m not scared of her. I love my mom, and she just wants the best for me. It’s not like she locks me in my room every night and starves me, my mom is a normal mom. She’s a little strict, and a little controlling, but I know she’s doing it for my sake. She’s making me cautious of every action I make so I don’t slip up in the future. She’s my parent, I can’t hate her. And I don’t have a reason too.

My mom doesn't’ really look like me, either. She has my nose and my hair. Besides that she’s kind of a skinny woman, she’s tall, and she’s pretty pale, plus the lack of freckles. Her skin is almost grey, and sags from her bones.  I got most of my attributes from my dad, my tan skin, my freckles, my face, my build, everything except what my mom gave me. And I guess I have a cross of their eye color. My dad has a bright brown while my mom has a dull green. The dullness from the green in my mom eyes must have mixed together with my dad’s brown eyes or something, because my eyecolor consists of the shittiest, most bland brown-color in the world.

She was really nice to me when I was a kid. Well, she is still nice to me, she was just more fun back then. But I was more fun too when I was little, and now i’m kinda boring. She tried to prevent me from bad things, and now, I realised those bad things were mostly the curse of being gay. I’d have to give it to her, being attracted to your own sex sucks, you get bullied and ridiculed for it, and it’s absolutely awful. Good thing no one has picked up on the fact that I am gay.

My mom and my dad divorced seven years ago, when I was ten, and still fun. Mom says he was a nasty man, that he had done bad things to her, and that she tried to protect me from him. Eventually mom kicked him out. She says it’s painful for her because I look so much like him, and it makes me feel like the guiltiest person in the world. Stupid genes.

My mom also has a group of other mom friends, like every normal mom. They started a baby group together or something and stuck around each other even after that. Sometimes new moms would come over for tips, it was kind of weird, but most likely normal. Even though I was seventeen and some of the moms coming in had two-year-olds. Apparently I have a good streak because parents flock to my mom to figure out how she did it.No offense to my mom, but I think why I was a ‘good kid’ when I was younger was because I’m calm, it’s just my personality. But my mom’s doing a great job. I think.

One of my mom’s friends had come over for help, I think she’s new though, I’ve never seen her before. She looks a lot younger than my mom, my mom looks tired from wear, but this girl looks new and fresh. Her hair was even styled and not in that messy mom-bun I see so often within my mom’s friends. I had peaked at them, sitting in the livingroom, before fleeing back into my room.

“The Marcous Bodticus must not make eye contact with it’s birthers acquaintances.”

Taking shelter into my room was the obvious option, I was up here almost all day just to hide from real life alone.  I liked keeping my room clean, but it still had a coziness that was necessary for my life. It was carpeted, and the walls were deep brown, and every object that was on the floor just seemed to be smiling. It was a nice escape. By now I had collected all the blankets throughout my house and my bed was now what I like to call ‘The Marco Cave’. I usually crawled in there and watched anime on my laptop, something like that. I was now going through a phase with the famed Free!, also widely known by tumblr users as the ‘Swimming Homos Anime’. It was in the middle of it’s second season, and I was patiently awaiting the new episode, hoping my otp would kiss or something like that. It probably won’t happen though. Boo Hoo.

Grabbing my laptop and getting ready to descend into the cave of blankets, I heard the shout of my mom from downstairs for my name. Great. I huffed quietly, setting my computer down before going downstairs, trying to look like the perfect son my mom told everybody I was in front of her mom friends. It was tough, because I was way far from the ‘perfect son’.

I swallowed nervously, eyeing my mom, then shifting my gaze to the other woman.

“Marco, would you mind getting us some water?” My mom asked slowly, and I took in every word as slowly as she gave them to me and quickly nodded. Favours, every child did them, and every child hated it. I hated doing them because I was lazy, and especially when I was in the middle of watching something. I hated it even more when I felt the devil staring me down, getting ready to drag my soul to hell if I slipped up in front of my mom’s friends. Walking to the kitchen with my best posture, I took out the water pitcher from the fridge, feeling like someone was breathing right down my neck. I could probably sweat like Bertholdt now if I allowed myself to collapse into the nervous wreck I was at the moment. I can’t look like an idiot in front of mom’s friends, I need to keep it together. Grabbing the two glasses that were now filled with water, I headed to the living room.

My living room is carpeted, all the rest is hardwood floor. I learned long ago that if I didn’t step high enough on the living room carpet, I’d trip. By now it was a habit, but right now, I was so distracted with keeping composure and looking like the proud, obedient boy that I was far from, I had forgotten all about the carpet and fallen, dropping the glasses as a reflex to stop myself. I landed on my hands, and it hurt like hell,much like my dad was I was naturally a pretty big guy and right now I was starting to hate the fact that I was.

The shattering glass on the floor slit my finger. I let out a sharp yelp in response, sticking my finger in my mouth to stop the flow of blood, crawling away from the now-broken cups on the living room carpet. Shit, I had fallen, my foot had gotten snagged on the carpet and now I was going to die from the hands of my mom. Shit, shit, shit.

“Marco.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. My mom’s voice broke the silence in that eerily calm, raspy tone. But it was like how Jean spoke to me, so sudden and direct it scared the crap out of me. Like the sound of an old gun going off. I wanted to stutter out something like ‘Im sorry’, but instead my mom cut me off.

“Clean this up.”

I took a moment to respond, taking my bleeding finger out of my mouth, before nodding meekly. “...Yes ma-am.”

I was going to get it later. She was going to yell at me. All I could do right now was clean up the mess I had made and flee to my room and lock the door. I did just that, cleaning up the glass shards while my mom resumed her conversation with the other lady with the broom and the dustpan, I tried my best to seem invisible, even with my bleeding finger that burned like hell. I’ll tend to it in my room. I just set a towel down on the carpet, kneading it a few times to help dry it off from the water, then I fled to my room to hide. Right now would be the perfect time for one of my mental wild animal dialogues, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I got a bandaid from the bathroom for my finger before running to my room and locking the door.

The locked door wouldn’t do very much. She’d ask me to open it and I would have no other choice but too. But it made me feel a little better about my safety.

I crawled into the blankets, not even bothering to grab my laptop. I hid it under my bed, swallowing down and sinking further into the blankets, waiting for the scolding, waiting for my mom to come in and yell at me for embarrassing her.

But she never came.

That was maybe worse.

It wasn’t only my nerves that were taking over, but the more I waited, the more guilt I felt. The more I wanted to go out there and make her yell at me. Why isn’t she coming? I did something wrong and she had clearly been mad! Maybe her friend is still here, it’ll be worth to check...

In the sneakiest way possible, I crept half-way downstairs, peeking to see if they were still on the couch. From here, I could see them, sitting and talking, and after a little listening, I came to the realization that my mom was talking about me. Uh oh.

I couldn’t pull away to go upstairs, I was too curious. Curiosity kills the Marco.

“Yes, Marco is very obedient,” I heard my mom say, I must’ve caught them in the middle of their conversation. I was not liking where this was going already. I swallowed heavily, sucking in a deep breath. Obedient. I didn’t like the use of the word. It sounded like she was talking about a dog.

“I’ve never even seen a teenager act like that before, it’s insane!” The friend said, I could help but feel some sort of irritation towards her. She thinks me obeying totally like that is a good thing? Well, I guess it is, but, it just sounded so insanely rude... I shouldn’t get mad, but I can’t help but get mad. My gut is starting to twist and I was reminded how much I hate that feeling, I hadn’t experienced it in a while. I’m not happy often, but i’m not sad either. This is the first time i’ve experienced the sick feeling since my last attack.

“He’s like a no-pay butler.” My mom said, and at this point I just wanted to sprint upstairs. What could I do? I can’t do anything, she’s my mom, I can’t prove a point. She’s just doing this because she loves me, I need to keep telling myself that. “He doesn’t have any friends either, and at first, you know, it’s upsetting, but I’m really starting to like the fact that he doesn’t.”

That was enough to break my curiosity. I ran upstairs as quietly as possible. I should be taking this as a compliment, that my image to other’s is the perfect son. But it hurts.

I keep telling myself she’s strict because she loves me.

I want to do something, say something, do anything to not be the perfect, role model son she tells people I am. But I can’t do anything. I’m not one of those rebellious teens. I’m Marco Bodt, the boy who does everyone’s homework, the one who stops fights, the one that listens to everyone’s problems in life and tries to help them through it. I’m no Jean Kirschstein or Eren Yeager. I’m not big enough to step up and I’m still not, even at seventeen-years-old.

**XXX**

The lunch seats were constantly changing. Most of the time I ended up in the middle of Jean and Reiner, and that was an awful mix of people to be stuck in between. Once I ended up next to Eren. And sometimes i’m in the middle of Sasha and Armin, which compared to Jean and Reiner, is a better couple to be next too. Jean is still a jerk at lunch. Jean is still very nice in art. I guess I want to sit next to him at lunch because of how kind he is in art, but I know at lunch he’s really pissy, so I don’t want to bug him. He acts a lot tougher, while in art, he’s very calm and nice. Weird.

Today was one of those Sasha-Armin days. Sitting on the uncomfortable stools it was hard to draw but I did it anyway, I didn’t want to seem like a total loser and not be doing anything, because eventually Jean started to talk to the others like they were buddies (even though he was still very grumpy about it), and I was left alone once more. So, I drew, trying to seem invisible as I did so. Sometimes Sasha would glance over at my art, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t drawing anything too personal, just little doodles from fandoms and stuff. I really didn’t draw ‘dark’ things. The deepest thing i’ve ever drawn was probably a picture of my bed. Or maybe a middle-school dick doodle that I transformed into a smiley face before one of the teachers saw it.

I was drawing my favorite character from Free!, Makoto Tachibana, just for the hell of it. Today was a wednesday so the new episode came out, and I was really in the mood to watch it, but I was in this hellhole instead.

I could feel Sasha’s glance digging into my skin. She was staring at me, and I could tell, but I tried to act like I had no clue, or else things would get really awkward. I swallowed heavily, preparing to close my sketchbook, Sasha never started this intensely at my art. It was weird. Usually she’d just look over, and give me some kind of compliment like ‘Oh, thats really cute!’. But today, Sasha was fucking hardcore starring.

Before I closed my sketchbook, Sasha spoke up. “Is that Makoto from free?”

“You know about free?”

Sasha grinned. And it was a big grin. I didn’t think someone as cool as her would watch something like that, well, Sasha was Sasha, so maybe she found shirtless swimming guys as entertaining as I did. She grabbed my shoulders tightly, and I let out a small gasp with how strong she was, her fucking hands felt all rough and calloused, and I twitched nervously under her man-hand grasp. Oh my god.

“You’re my new best friend, Marco.”

Oh jeez.

At this point everyone was staring, my face growing a beet red as Sasha pulled me into a hug. I could feel her boobs press against my chest and it was really weird, but I kinda liked the affection coming from her. Also I felt kinda good that I wasn’t the only one in this school who thought free! was cool.

Connie let out a scoff from behind sasha, “What about me?” He hissed, and Sasha scoffed back.

“You think free is weird so Marco is my new best friend.” Thank god she let go of me after a few seconds, my chest cavity was starting to collapse. Holy crap, Sasha’s one big girl! Her arms felt like anacondas for godsake! How does little Connie cuddle with this girl? “Okay, okay,” Sasha started, making some kind of gesture with her hands, “Who’s your favorite.”

This was weird, I hadn’t talked to anyone like this in a really, really long time. “Uh, Makoto I guess?” I murmured, cocking my head to the side. Sasha started sharing her OTPs with me, and her favorite characters, and what episode she liked best, and eventually I dropped being awkward we both started giggling like school girls. Well, for Sasha, giggling like a schoolgirl was okay. But for me it was just downright strange. But, it felt pretty good. Sasha and I shared an interest, that was awesome! Even if it is a show about swimming boys. This is the first solid, human conversation i’ve had in months with someone my age. And it felt great. Jean’s conversations with me really didn’t count, as it was just small talk about the weather, nothing that really had to do with interests. I still liked my exchanges with Jean, but this was just plain out wonderful. The alarms in my head weren’t going off for once.

“You know, Marco, why do you never hang out with us?”

The question came as a shock. I knew people liked me, but I didn’t expect that anyone would actually want to hang out with me. I couldn’t help the red color that totally flushed my face and ended my brief period of comfort. “I, uh, I dunno?” I murmured, reaching up to nervously rub my neck to try and soothe the blood rushing to my face.

“Yeah, why don’t you hang out with us?” Eren asked, I was surprised he had even been listening to our conversation, “You should.”

Maybe I had more friends than I thought I had.

“I uh, I didn’t know you guys wanted me around,” I questioned with a shrug, it was a pathetic sounding excuse, but it was an honest one.

“Of course we want you around!” Sasha chirped, her hand pulling on my arm to hold it to her chest. Ah, boobs, boobs make me very uncomfortable. Sasha’s not really good on personal space, hah... “You’re really nice and stuff!”

Thats when I realized it. Yes, these guys like me. They like me a little more than I thought which is good. But nobody really knows me still. They see me as the nice, calm, peace-keeping Marco that I advertise to everyone. That’s how everybody knows me, nobody really knows me and nobody really wants too. Hell, these guys probably don’t know my favorite color. The only thing they know about my hobbies is that I draw and I like free. Unlike everyone else I had no style, I wore jeans and hoodies. Sasha had her faded 90’s shirts, Armin had his turtlenecks, Eren had his hipster clothes, Reiner had his flannels, Jean had his punk rock thing. They had character. I do not. And I don’t think they want to get to know me. They just want to accept me as nice, plain Marco to keep it nice and simple.

I ignored the small bubbling of anger in my gut and went for the normal, nice Marco approach. I shouldn’t be angry, it’s not their fault. “Aw, thanks...” I gave Sasha a small smile, and she smiled back. Ah, fuck me, i’m doubting myself again.

“Yeah, um, Marco, we’re going for ice cream after school if you want to come.” Armin said quietly, looking up from his reading and fixing his glasses on his nose. Armin usually wore contacts, he hated his glasses, but I guess today was one of those days where he decided to wear them. Just like how this was one of those days where I chose to talk to someone.

I couldn’t help the small chuckle that left my lips, even though now the alarms in my head were going off louder than ever, I nodded meekly. “You guys are the best, thanks! I’ll just have to call  my mom and let her know...”  I really shouldnt’. I really, really shouldn’t. It’ll make me more upset. I’m doing pretty good right now, I’m sane and I’m happy, I can’t screw up my mood. But I still accept their offer. Why? I have no clue.

“Mama’s boy,” Reiner teased, and I let out a chuckle and I nodded. Ha, he doesn’t even know... Well, not like he should. I shouldn’t get mad at him for not knowing, that’s just wrong. But I can’t help but get a little agitated. Just as much irritation that I can hold without getting upset at myself.

Next it was Connie’s turn to speak, “Should we meet by the flagpole?” Connie asked, cocking his head to the side. Everybody made some sound of agreement, except Jean.

What was with this guy?

He was so nice to me during art class, but now he glares at everyone like he despises everyone. Maybe the art room transforms him into a super nice being of light, or, maybe the cafeteria turns him into the devil itself. Jean’s a mystery to me. I only see him in art and lunch, and his two personalities are so damn different I can’t quite figure them out. And I’m able to figure everyone out. I’m observant, I listen to conversations, I watch people, I study body language. Jean just has two totally different personalities and neither of them connects. It’s a little frustrating. At first I was fine with it, I told myself to just let it be, but now it’s irritating me. Who the hell is this guy?

I’ve got to find out. I must figure out Jean Kirschstein.

Its just like that damned lonely freckle. Who the hell has just one freckle? And on the shell of his ear? That’s just plain weird.

**XXX**

The plan stuck. We all met at the flagpole once school was done and overwith. The flagpole was far away enough so that the deadly crowd of teens rushing to get home didn’t crowd around it. I almost got run over twice, people are crazy! Jesus, it’s not like the bus is going to leave five seconds after the bell rings. Anyways, I’m walking home today. My home isn’t too far from the school, I’m just lazy and I prefer to take the bus. I could walk if I really wanted too, or if I missed the bus or something.

“The wild Marcous Bodticus has been accepted into a pack of rabid hipsters. He probably won’t live much longer if he decides to stick around.”

I sighed, shoving my hands into my pockets. Reiner, Sasha and Bertholdt waved, Reiner and Sasha smiling, while Bertholdt just wore his neutral expression that he always wore. “Hey guys,” I murmured, shuffling over to their little group. Connie still wasn’t here, everybody else was. I almost didn’t spot Annie, she sat in the middle of Reiner and Bertholdt, her light blue polo not having a single wrinkle in it. Annie’s so freaky.

Jean leant against the flagpole, his eyes glancing at me before trailing away. His face contorted into a frown. What the hell is with him, look at me! Say hi! Be friendly like in art class!

Once a disheveled Connie Springer ran over to us, panting with an obvious shoe-dirt-stain on his white polo, we left. Poor guy probably got trampled, Connie is a fragile package after all. He reminds me of an angry chihuahua. Instead of talking with Connie, or Sasha, or Eren, or even Reiner and Bertholdt, I slowed my pace to walk with Jean. I’m going to break this guy with my niceness soon enough.

“Hey Jean!” I chirped, a little over-the-top. I remember the first time I saw him all I wanted was for him to leave me alone. Now that he’s gotten involved with me, though, I’m not going to let him go that easy. He hasn’t let me figure him out.

“Hey,” Jean said plainly, not in anyway I knew. His eyes hooded low, his lips slightly puckered in a way that could only be described as ‘proud-punk-dickhead’. I’m pretty sure that’s what Jean’s aiming for though. His fingers were shoved into his torn-up jeans, his thumbs sticking out of the pockets in the most irritating way possible. I mentally rolled my eyes. Stereotypical punk asshole. I needed to figure out why he could go from stereotypical asshat too the nicest guy in the universe. It will haunt me until the day I die if I dont.

“Soo,” I cooed, hugging my body tightly, and with a nervous swallow I began. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavour, Jean?” That was an awful conversation starter, but it was the only one I could think of. “Mine’s chocolate chip.”

Jean glared at me. Shit. I felt some kind of nervous twinge in my chest, I hated it when people were upset with me. I think it was because of my mom, but jesus, the glare almost sent me reeling back to hide behind Bertholdt or something. “Choclate.” He said in the way when I had first met him, like a sudden drop of a bomb, but more bitter. Maybe I should leave him alone. I don’t think Jean is afraid to throw insults at people and I’m super sensitive.

I went back to talk to Sasha and Connie, and the two of them quickly shot up a conversation. That was the end of my exchange with outside-of-art-class-Jean-Kirschstein.

XXX

****  
  


The ice cream parlor was a small booth-like building with two, orange steel tables with wooden benches. Thankfully, we could all fit, but I had to cram myself between Sasha and Armin, I wasn’t taking my chances with Jean again. Plus I don’t want to press myself against Reiner, that’ll be weird. And he’s sweaty. But not as sweaty as Bertholdt. It was weird being so close to Sasha’s eating wrath, she was downing her ice cream faster than the speed of light. And Armin was one of those people who bites the damn ice cream. Weird.

In about ten minutes we had all finished our ice cream. This shit was the reason why all my muscle from playing soccer turned into chub. Well, I wasn’t like ,really chubby, I was just kinda squishy. It was kinda fun to poke at my belly, cuz I was really ticklish now and instead of a rock-hard gut its really soft. It’d make a good pillow if I had a date-friend or something. But I dont. And never will. Anyhow, I was still nibbling at the bottom part of the cone, trying to decide if I should just shove the whole thing in my mouth and risk choking or just taking little bites and have the ice cream drip all over my sweater. I didn’t do neither, I just kind of stared at it like my eyes could suck it up, and that was when Jean stood up and left.

A simple “Bye” was the only thing he said as he walked away.

We all stared. He didn’t even give a shit, he didn’t even look back, we all just stared in silence.

“What an asshole,” Connie said, breaking the awkward silence.

“The douchiest.” Sasha added with a wave of her hand.

“The king of the douche.” Reiner mused.

“I hate to be mean, but heavy metal dickface.” Bertholdt uttered from underneath Reiner’s arm.

“Lord doucherson of the assholes.” Armin scoffed, rolling his eyes with a snort.

“More like queen dickhead of the douchiest assholes.” Eren chimed in with a smirk.

“Bitchy queen Dickhead Kirschstein , leader of the assholes, married to king douche.” Annie hummed plainly.

I swallowed, I felt kind of bad for Jean, only because he was super nice to me in art. But if the Jean I just saw was the real Jean, than I totally agree with them.  don’t even know anymore.

“He’s pretty nice to me sometimes.” I murmured with a shrug. The reaction I got was a little more shocking than expected.

Sasha slammed her hands down on the table, and everybody started staring at me. Like, intense staring, with really wide eyes. Even Annie, who didn’t even cry at the end of Marley And Me, showed the shocked expression on her face that everyone else did. Oops. Shit. I swallowed, pulling on my sleeves. Did I say something wrong? “...What?” I managed to squeak out, looking at everyone with some look only Bertholdt could pull of.

“Kirschstein is nice too you?” Eren blurted out, and still everyone wore that god awful expression that made me sweat like fucking Bertholdt.

“Uhm, yeah, I-I think,” I uttered, scratching my neck.

“What did you do to him?” Sasha uttered, and I jumped back at her words, putting my hands up in defense.

“I-I didn’t do anything to him! He just was really nice to me in art, and h-he said he liked my freckles, and he just seemed like a really genuine guy, but now he’s like, a dick! I-I don’t know!” I blurted out, shaking my head as Sasha giggled in amusement.

“I bet Marco kicked him in the balls,” Connie scoffed with a laugh, Reiner and Sasha chuckling at that. Before I went to protest, Annie spoke up in her painfully monotone voice.

“I kicked him in the balls once. He didn’t change much.”

“I remember that!” Reiner chuckled, slapping Annie on the back. Annie immediately grabbed his wrist, glaring at him with a stare that could make the devil burst into tears. Reiner backed off.

“After eighth grade I think someone shoved a stick up his ass,” Eren said, and Armin nodded in agreement.

“I’m normally not for this stuff, but it’s pretty true. He even walks like he has a stick wedged up there.” Armin said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his salmon polo in a way only a smart kid could.

“Oh c’mon, be nice...” I mumbled, not even sure of myself anymore. These guys talked about Jean like he was awful, and they had obviously known him longer. Maybe he was trying to use me or something, but hell, Jean seemed completely different in the art room. Maybe Jean had a identical twin who had the same name and same fashion sense, maybe that’s who I was seeing at art, no way the Jean outside the art room was the same guy as Jean inside the art room.

“If you knew him like we did you’d so not be saying that,” Annie uttered, and Bertholdt let out a corresponding hum to add to her statement. He was awkwardly positioned under Reiner’s arm, and fuck, they were such a cute couple.

“Well why is he so bad?” I asked curiously, not doubting their words one bit. Jean seemed like a high class asshole with a metal rod shoved up his ass. I was just a snoop.

“Okay, okay,” Sasha said, putting her hands in the air like she was patting some invisible force. “Jean used to be real nice in our middle school.”

“More than nice,” Eren laughed, “Jean was a fucking emotional wreck. He cried like, every day.”

Armin and Sasha both scolded him, Armin more so for the sake of being nice, and Sasha because no one interrupts Sasha.

“Well, anyways, Jean was... Emotionally troubled. He didn’t wear that whole metal getup either, he dressed kind of like me, with my shitty graphic T’s. But he was nice. Kinda. He still had a temper, but, his temper was like Erens.” Eren let out a quiet ‘hey!’, before Sasha shot him a warning glance to shut him up. Me, Bertholdt, Reiner and I all went to school together. Eren, Sasha, Armin, Connie, and Annie all went to a different middle school, and according to Sasha, Jean had to.  “After eighth grade he disappeared. We think he started getting home schooled, but we really don’t know. Then this past summer we all started hanging out again, and Jean showed up, and he’s a complete dickhead. The end.”

Everybody started clapping for shits and giggles. Even me. I couldn’t help it.

“I don’t doubt you guys, like, at all,” I spoke up, swallowing nervously. Speaking for what I thought was right was a little hard for me. “But, don’t you think thats kind of sad?” Before I had time to add to my opinion, Eren forcefully interrupted me.

“No, it’s not sad! Jean was a baby! He still is!” Eren hissed, and this time Armin didn’t stop him. Armin was a pretty level headed guy, so if Armin agreed with Eren, I might as well listen. “Bertholdt and Reiner were bullied worse! Before Reiner had all of his muscle those two were bullied constantly! You know that, Marco! Jean was hardly, ever bullied, and he’d fucking cry every day for no reason!” I swallowed, Eren’s tone was freaking me out, I hated being scolded. I don’t think he was yelling at me, I think he was trying to get his point across loudly. I nodded meekly, and Sasha immediately covered my ears with her man-hands.

“Don’t be so mean, Eren,” Sasha said, puckering her lips, “Marco’s a precious egg and he should be preserved.” Sasha patted my head, and Eren and I let out a small laugh.

“If he was an egg you’d eat him,” Connie added with a snort, and Sasha slapped her boyfriend across the top of his shaven head.

“I don't eat raw eggs you dipshit,” She scolded, and Connie giggled quietly, “And even if Marco was a cooked egg I wouldn’t eat him. I’d eat you though.”

Connie frowned, and all of us laughed. Then Sasha made a sick, twisted smile, “I’d eat you in bed.” Connie started blushing like mad, and everyone started making gagging sounds.

Classy, Sasha, real classy.

****  
  


**XXX**

****  
  


Art the next day was surely... Well, awkward. Knowing half of the story of what happened to Jean, I wasn’t sure if I should be nice to him or treat him like shit. Well, I could never treat anyone like shit, so my only option was to be nice to him. It wasn’t forced niceness, it was more so confused niceness. Jean plopped down next to me with a warm smile, no trace of the man I saw yesterday within him. He wasn’t wearing his snake bites today, but he had acquired a new piercing, right above his skinny eyebrow.

“Look, Marco, I got an eyebrow piercing!” He exclaimed, pointing to the new golden stud sticking out. I smiled softly, the skin around it was all red and puffy, clear proof it really was brand new and probably infected. “Hurts like a bitch,” Jean explained,raising the pierced eyebrow and reacting with a wince. “I almost died.”

“You almost died?” I blurted out, awkwardly reaching up to poke the piercing. Jean let me, inhaling sharply as I did so. I can only help but imagine Jean Kirschtien fighting off a deadly beast that shot poison from its maw to get to the piercing shop.

“Yeah man, its right next to a major vain. If the guy who did it nailed it, i’d be dead.” Jean said, letting out a deep sigh as I stopped touching the new peircing. The dream of Jean fighting off a beast disappeared.

“Well, I should have admitted my feelings of intense love for you yesterday if that’s the case,” I snorted jokingly, and Jean and I chuckled for a little bit. We had both transitioned too busily sketching away, as this was art class, not talk to your very confusing friend/enemy class. Jean’s pretty good at drawing, I have to admit, he’s really good at drawing long hair, and he focuses more on people. He likes drawing pretty girls. Jean is straight as a ruler and it’s obvious just by looking at his art. I’ve seen a few boobs in his sketchbook for my one and a half week of sitting with him. I couldn’t help but flip back to the page where I had drawn Jean, and I messily added his eyebrow piercing. “That’s more like it,” I stated, and Jean smiled, I let him look at it for a second before flipping back to the page I was working on.

“Speaking of yesterday...” Jean muttered, his expression going somewhat serious, “Sorry about leaving so suddenly.”

A spark of anger lit up in me.

He’s only sorry about that? Not treating me like a peice of crap? Glaring at me? Yelling at me? Acting so nice and then completely ignoring me?

...No, no, that’s bad. I shouldn’t be mad at him. I shouldn’t hold anything against anyone, that’s bad.

“It’s okay,” It literally burned to say that. It also hurt to smile at him that kind smile I always gave him. Jean’s serious expression broke, and he smiled back. He completely ignores the fact that he is a total shitbag outside the art room. It is so like I’m talking to two different people. I don’t get it. Even though Sasha explained part of it too me, I still don’t get him. Why the hell is he so nice to me, and then later he treats me like shit? Ah, fuck it, Jean Kirschstein is the most confusing person in the whole world and I’m never going to find out what his deal is.

Sometimes I just want to ignore everyone and nap. I’m not miserable all the time, I’m more so tired. Sleepy, and tired, and I want to go home and be boring on tumblr, not try to fit the image people think of me to be. According to Sasha, I’m a precious egg, but if she saw me out of school she probably wouldn’t think that. My outside-of-school-life consists of icecream, tumblr, naps, and i’ll admittedly admit I masturbate from time-to-time (but what teenage boy my age doesn't?), and I’d much rather have my outside-of-school-life 24/7. But the mystery of Jean Kirschstein is making me think harder than I desire too. He interrupts my outside-of-school-life, I’m just trying to figure him out, I want to ask him but I feel like it’s wrong. All the other’s gave me what they know about him. Maybe it would be okay if Jean was just a asshole all the time, but he wasn’t. He was nice for forty five minutes a day during art class. And it was frustrating me. I focused on it way too much than I wanted too and it was pissing me off.

Maybe the art room is like... The holy cleansing zone. And maybe Jean is possessed by a demon or something. So when he walks into the art room the demon has to sit outside the art room and wait for him to come back or something.

If that’s the case, Jean’s demon probably looks like Johnny Rotten with red ram horns and a barbed tail.

Oh my god. I am so drawing that when I get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Johnny Rotten (or John Lyndon) was the lead singer of Sex Pistols, just by the way if you didn't know
> 
> and yes I included free! fight me
> 
> this chapter sucks  
> ahhh  
> Its kinda short too
> 
> thanks for all the comments and kudos so far though! I really appreciate it ^^*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeans gonna screw up

_I know what you are,_

_But you know nothing of me,_

_I see you from afar,_

_That poor boy,_

_Frightened and alone,_

_All because you want to belong,_

_You really sicken me_

**\--**

I had been finding myself buried in the library a lot more lately. Mostly because the demand of books for class was slowly getting higher as the third week of school progressed, and partly because I found a new thing for reading. I don’t read like Armin, just a famous novel here and there, I finally read the Hunger Games trilogy, and I just started Divergent a few days ago. Unlike Armin i’m not going to go diving for books that are like little hidden gems. I’m just going to go for the ones I know about. With more visits to the library, came more visits with Armin, climatically. We’d usually bump into each other, and we’d each sit down in a beanbag or just sit at the same table, and silently do our own thing. Usually Armin had a heavy pile of books in his arms that he’d be struggling with, and I’d try to help him, and he’d refuse. But I don’t mind. I’m not helping if I’m forcing something onto someone. Even though hanging out with Armin was nice, I liked the days where I didn’t run into him, and I sit in the very back of the library, alone, and read. Surely wasn’t anything like the ‘Marco cave’, but it was nice.

I was spending another morning with Armin, he was busy doing last minute homework, while I was quietly reading Divergent. Even though Armin was a smart kid, he wasn’t exactly a straight A student. He played video games a lot, you could tell by the way his eyes were bloodshot in the morning. Bloodshot in the way that said ‘I stared at a tiny screen all night and played the fuck out of pokemon’.

“So, Marco,” Was always our conversation starter. I was never the first to speak. I looked up from my book, humming to signal my attention was focused on him. Armin clearly wasn’t focused on me, he was still writing sloppy math equations down and swearing occasionally, his overly-big orange turtleneck sleeves rubbing in his eraser shavings. “I was-, Ah, shit, I mean, we’re going to a movie tonight. We’re gonna go see- mh crap, that’s wrong,” Armin huffed frustratedly, blinking furiously a few times before continuing to write, “We’re going to see the twister movie thing. If you wanna come.”

“So wait,” I chuckled softly, Armin’s frustrated murmurs about his homework were confusing me, “I’m invited to see a movie?”

“Yep,” Armin said, licking his lips. He was staring so intensely at the paper I’m surprised his eyes haven’t burst into flames. “Tonight, at uh, five. No, five thirty. Five thirty.”

“Cool,” I muttered, shrugging, “My mom works the later shift today so I can go.”

“You remember Mikasa right?” Armin asked, flattening his bangs over his head with his free hand, “Eren’s sister.” I nodded, as I very much remembered Mikasa. She was, well, kind of like Annie. But bigger. And less-intense. Unless you messed with Eren. She always wore some red scarf, there was a reason why, but I don’t think Eren ever told me. “So uh, her friend Ymir is driving us after school.” Armin waved his hand in the air, shooing some invisible fly, before glancing up at me with his baby blues for the first time in this conversation. “She’s tall. Wears a ponytail. Has freckles like you as a matter of fact. She’s kinda mean. she didn’t go to school here though, but, you remember Christa, right?”

Damn my freckles. They’ve been suddenly noticed by everyone this year and I hate it. “Yeah, I remember Christa.” Christa was a small girl, she looked kind of like the girl version of Armin with the pale complexion, baby blue eyes, and blonde hair. She was the sweetest thing ever, I bet if you licked her she’d taste like cotton candy. Ymir on the other hand I don’t have any recolition of, she probably didn’t go to school here. “She was really nice.”

“Well Christa is dating Ymir, so you don’t need to feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“I didn’t really know Christa that well?” I said with a small shrug, sticking my tongue out a little for dramatic effect.

“Yeah, yeah, you get my point,” Armin said, doing the same shooing motion with his hand before getting back to work. It was funny, in the morning, Armin was all stressed out and his medium-length hair was always frizzy. When I saw him at lunch he’d be a lot calmer, and a little more collected, and much nicer. Armin was like a grumpy old man in the morning. A grumpy, nerdy old man with the thickest blonde locks I’ve ever seen on a male. Armin and I shared some relation, our basic personalities were basically the same. Caring, nice, easy to cry. But now that I had gotten to know Armin a little better, I’ve realized me and Armin are so different if you really look hard. Armin’s easy to stress. I’m easy going and all I want to do is nap. Armin’s clean. I could care less. He tries to have style. I wear whatever is comfortable. He’s soft spoken. I’m not. He’s smart. I’m a fucking idiot. He’s not depressed. I am.

Strangely I’ve felt a little bit more accepted this year.

I had been invited to ice cream after school three times in the two and a half weeks since Senior year has started, everyone talks to me, I’m actually respected somewhat. Eren actually stopped asking me to do his homework for him, and he actually does it! Sasha is certainly the one who’s pulling me in though, she’s been encouraging me, telling everyone how neat I am when she hardly knows me. I don’t mind, it feels kind of good that she’s investing so much into me. They actually like me. Maybe only because they think i’m nice, but hey, they’re investing time into me and it feels great, so i’m happy. Reiner treats me like i’ve been his best friend for years, Sasha treats me like a brother, Eren treats me like that one cousin you’re excited to see whenever they come over. It’s amazing. I wonder what happened. And for once I’m not embarrassed to laugh around people. My laugh is stupid, it sounds like I’m having an asthma attack or something, because my lungs are laughing and not my vocal chords. But sasha’s laugh sounds like donkey’s having sex and it’s actually cute, so I’m not too cautious anymore. Even Reiner and Bertholdt and I are close again, and Reiner’s really nice too me, he kinda treats me like Bertholdt but without the whole boyfriend thing. I even got Annie to smile once. I’m treated like i’m actually a part of something, one time Reiner and I were walking through the halls together and I got a dirty look and he actually glared at them. He was standing up for me and it felt wonderful.

I gotta say, though, sometimes I think about my situation and I get scared. It’s scary, I have a friend group. It really slips my mind sometimes that I’m two-hundred-pounds and have triggers that make me seem like I’ve been possessed by something. It’s not even that, what would they do if they found out i’m a cutter? What would they do if they found out i’m depressed? Would they ditch me? Would they feel bad? Getting so attached to these people is putting me in danger and I know it, but I can’t leave, not now. I’m pathetic, I should be trying to protect them from myself, but yet i’m basically throwing them in a lions den by having them with me.

I’m trying to ignore that. Maybe if I ignore that voice everything will be okay. If I doubt myself that will make everything worse.

Now Jean Kirschstein on the other hand.

Still don’t have a clue. It’s been a good week and a half and he’s still a mystery to me. It pisses me off more than it should, and the fact that it pisses me off makes me pissed off at myself. And then I just get upset with myself because he’s the nicest guy in the world, but then I get mad again at lunch because what the fuck. I’m obsessed with this guy and I just want to get it over with so I’m not obsessed any more.

The bell rang, and I sighed softly, looking at Armin who was staring at his paper with his eyes bulging, everything about him frozen and tense.

“I’m going to die.” He uttered.

“You won’t die,” I reassured him. From the looks of it, Armin had not finished his homework, and now we had to go to our classes. “Well, what teacher do you have?”

“Doctor Heichou...” Armin said, his whole body going slack, his head banging against the table, “He’s going to murder me.”

I stifled a chuckle, trying to sympathize with Armin, I had been in that situation more than once and it sucked. But seeing someone else experience it, it was kind of funny, and with Doctor Heichou? Oh man, Armin was going to die. I smiled nervously, not being able to stifle back the small chuckle that left my lips. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, buddy.” Armin and I began the short walk out of the library, Armin basically dragging himself out. I’m pretty sure Armin would live in the library if he could.

“Maybe you’re right, Marco...” Armin murmured, rubbing his forehead so that his hair ruffled slightly. I patted his back awkwardly, but gently, trying to reassure my blonde friend.

“It’s just one class.” I said softly. I’m such a hypocrite, I fucking hate school with all my soul and it feels like a jail. But to reassure my friends i’m going to have to lie. White lies don’t hurt anyone. “You’ll get through it.”

“Yep, just one class.” Armin sighed heavily, straightening out his back while stretching an arm out. It made a weird popping sound that made me cringe, but Armin sighed in relief. “You’re right. I’ll tell him I tried.”

I hummed in approval, giving Armin a thumbs up with the warmest smile I could possibly pull off.

Oh Marco, no matter how much you want to frown and cry you just smile. I can’t stop smiling, no matter how hard I want too, I don’t want them to know. I want them to see me as happy old Marco, but at the same time I really don’t. I’m confusing myself constantly.

I want them to see the real me but I can’t stop smiling. What the hell is wrong with me.

**  
  
**

**XXX**

Sasha was already holding my hands in hers once I had made it to the lunch table.

“Marco’s going to the movie with us?” She asked Armin, but Armin was still sitting and settling down, so I answered with a simple ‘yes’, and Sasha started rocking our hands while making little happy noises. Next she grabbed Connie’s hand while one of her’s were still interlocked with mine, and began swinging both of our arms. “Movie buddies!” She chirped, and I let out a nervous chuckle. Gotta love Sasha. This girl eats fucking raw potatoes, well, peeled raw potatoes for lunch. She’s metal. But not like Jean metal. Like, cool metal.

We were all talking and joking for a while, until Reiner said something that made me blush and laugh hysterically at the same time.

“Guys, I got the perfect nickname for freckle face,” Reiner began, before smiling evilly at Bertholdt, then smirking at me, his blue eyes piercing mine. “Freckled Jesus.”

I’m not sure why it was so funny but it was. Maybe I was a little bit more happy, no one had ever given me a nickname before. Even though it regarded my god awful freckles, it was a nickname! That’s amazing! Everyone started giggling, it even got a smile out of Jean and Annie. Jean was trying to fight it down though, but I don’t think he could help himself.

Yes, laugh Jean, laugh, act human.

“Oi, how about we call Jean MuffinTop.” Reiner than said, and everyone burst into another round of giggles, while Jean started frowning immensely with a simple ‘no thanks’. He rolled his eyes. Jean acted like we were a bunch of annoying pre-teens he was forced babysit or something. It was really fucking annoying, but I’ve gone over how annoying Jean is outside of art class over a million times so I think you get the point.

“You know Freddie from Icarly is in the tornado movie, right?” Sasha said with a smile, elbowing Connie. Icarly was the shit when I was younger, it’s a shame that show ended, I still watch reruns today. It was a damn good kids show, and it could be funny as shit sometimes. Yeah, i’m that guy who watches all those kids shows when he’s home alone. Icarly, Chowder, the smurfs, doesn’t matter. America’s next top model is pretty fun too.

We all started talking, either something like ‘oh no I didn't know that!’, or ‘who didn't know that?’, all expect Jean, once again. It was kind of expected for him to sit there and look completely unamused now. Our conversations usually varied, a lot of the time we were talking to everybody all at once, and I didn’t feel too left out. If one-on-one conversations started, Sasha and Reiner would make sure I didn’t sit there awkwardly and not speak. I like Reiner and Sasha, they have my back, I’ve never really had someone who did that.

Jean’s voice interrupted our conversation. It was full of emotion, which was really strange for him. Not like, intense emotion. But he surely didn’t sound like his normal robot self. He sounded like the Jean I knew in art class.

“Wait a second, doesn’t Ymir only have eight seats in her van?” Jean blurted out, and suddenly, Armin went bright red. I heard him mouth a quiet ‘uh oh’. “Not counting the front seats of course... But how in the hell are we going to fit Marco without getting pulled over?”It was weird, Jean sounded normal for once, like he was an actual human being. I swallowed, glancing at Armin questioningly. That means Armin invited me without telling the others. That means someone is not going to be able to go because I’m going.

I can see where this is going.

Shit.

Jean raised an eyebrow, his little golden stud raising with it, and Armin let out a shaky ‘I-I...’ Eren coughed awkwardly, rubbing his arm while Sasha glanced at me nervously. A little too nervously. My body was slowly turning to jelly, I could see where this was going and I hoped it wasn’t going where I thought it was. Armin opened his mouth to speak, his eyes on the floor, but then Eren interrupted with the sentence that broke my hope.

“You’re not going anymore.”

Fuck me.

“What?” Jean murmured, furrowing his eyebrows. Fuck me, fuck me so hard, fuck me until my brain explodes, I don’t care, just, oh man. “What do you mean I’m not going?” Jean hissed, I swore I could see the smoke coming out of his nose. I just wanted to evaporate into the floor at this point.

“M-Me and Eren, Kinda wanted Marco to go, a-and..” Armin uttered, I could tell it was hard for him to hand it to Jean, he was trying his best not to sound like a dick. Armin’s situation was probably worse than mine, but I still felt absolutely awful. I was going so Jean wasn’t. There wasn’t any room for him to go. I had kicked Jean out, basically. Goddamnit, why didn’t Armin tell me? I’m sure Armin was just trying to make things easy, but now we were both paying for it.

“I get it, he’s just going to replace me, isn’t he?” Jean hissed, slamming his hands down on the table. Now was when I wanted to slink away, but Sasha’s gentle grip on my back was keeping me from running off. This is my fault.

“He’s not replacing you,” Eren spat back, giving Jean as much emotion as he had before. Eren and Jean certainly weren’t the most compatible two ever, Eren was prone to getting pissed off at Jean easier than everyone else. Jean was bigger than Eren, but Eren was more mentally stable. Jean had more emotion than Eren, but Eren was able to handle his better. The two were a perfect match for each other and it showed with their personalities. I wished they weren’t, I wish Jean and Eren could just sit down and talk it out, I don’t want to see my friends fight on the third week of school. I especially don’t want to break it up. “There was nothing to replace!”

“That made no fucking sense!”

“It doesn’t make any sense why you’re mad!”

“I’m mad because he’s going and I’m not!”

Armin do something. Stop the fight that I caused. Please.

“Well you kinda expected this, didn’t you?”

“It’s pretty fucking rude if you make plans and then cancel them!”

Then came the fight breaker. I’m pretty sure no one expected it to come. For me this whole fight had been like going up to the big drop on a roller coaster, and this was the big drop.

“No one likes you, Jean!”

Oh dear jesus fucking christ help me.

I’m not sure anyone expected that, because Armin shouted at Eren in reaction, and Sasha gripped me tighter. I didn’t see anyone else’s reaction, because I was too busy staring at Jean. For once he had some human emotion besides anger on his face, no frown, no eye roll, no furrowed brows. He looked like a kicked puppy for a split second, the only emotion on his face being shock and the fucking saddest look i’ve ever seen on anyone, ever. I wanted to give him a hug, or something, I hated it when people were sad. All I wanted to do was comfort them, because I knew how it felt, but the table between us wasn’t going to let it happen. Being told nobody likes you is a big fucking blow.

Jean looked destroyed for a good five seconds until he forced it down. Somewhat. His frown was still twisted like he was trying to hold back from tears, but Jean hissed lowly, grabbing his stuff and leaving. He tripped, but caught himself quickly.

I have to stop this. I can’t let Jean go cry in the guidance office. I don’t want him to be sad, hell, I don’t want anyone to be sad. Even if he is a prick, I feel awful I got up from my seat, Sasha murmuring ‘What the hell are you doing?’ before I trotted over to Jean Kirschstein’s fast-walking figure.

“Jean, hey, c’mon, let’s talk this out!” I called, waving out my arms as I went to catch up to him. No answer. I sped up, trying to stay side by side with him. He hung his head so his long, ashen hair at the top of his undercut hid his face, and I hoped with all my heart he wasn’t crying. I hated it when people were sad, I hated it even more when people cried. Crying was what really hit me hard. “C’mon, buddy, I’m sure we can just sit down and talk it out, and everything will be okay, yeah?” I extended my fingers to touch his back, but I decided it wasn’t the best plan, especially since Jean had an anger that could be triggered at anything. “Hey.. How about, I just won’t go? That’ll fix everything. And you can go, I don’t mind, really-.”

“Cut the goodie-two-shoes bullshit, Marco!”

I stopped immediately. Fuck me. I took a few steps back, his voice was all shaky and raspy, and I knew he was crying, I wasn’t sure of myself any more. According to Armin I was pretty good at comforting people, but, well, Jean isn’t really mentally stable, it seems. I’m not sure if I can talk sense into a crying person, either. I swallowed, extending my fingers towards the other male, “...Jean?”

Finally, Jean lifted his head, stands of hair stuck to his forehead. Tears streaked down his pale cheeks, but his expression was fifty percent sadness and fifty percent anger. What the hell do I do. “J-Jean, I didn’t mean-..”

“I don’t fucking care! J-Just... fuck off!” He hissed, his voice broken and cracked, it made my stomach swell with sadness and sympathy, but most importantly, guilt. Jean fumbled with his free hand, first pointing his index finger at me, but then he realized what he was doing with a small, needy-sounding sigh before switching it too his middle finger, before sprinting off. My hand was at this point gripping my chest, how the hell was I supposed to react to that? I mean... The guilt was overwhelming. He flipped me off. Jean Kirschstein probably hates me and I screwed up big time.

By the time I worked up enough courage to turn around, Reiner was quickly coming behind me, looking somewhat pissed off. Once he realized Jean was gone, though, he calmed. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered with a shrug, biting my lip. I managed to force a fake chuckle from my lips, “I got flipped off.” I didn’t like the chuckle that left my lips. It hid the fact that I was totally torn and broken right now. Poor Jean. Reiner patted my back, hard enough to make me stumble, and I rubbed my arm awkwardly as Reiner chuckled quietly.

“Don’t feel bad, freckles.” He said, one of his big, meaty hands reaching out to ruffle my hair. I dodged his hand. Reiner was too touchy-feely, but I knew he meant well. “You’re nice like that. You feel bad, right? Don’t.” We started to walk back to the table, and I stared at my feet, thinking over if I should run and find Jean and try to make things right. Again. But I realized Jean had told me to back off, and I now knew I didn’t know when to stop, because my mind was screaming at me to go find him.

“He was crying,” I murmured softly, and Reiner sighed heavily. One of his heavy arms wrapped around my shoulders, and my mentally-heavy body became physically heavy in a matter of seconds.

“He knew it was coming.”

“I don’t think he did.”

I hated to be back-talking Reiner like this. I didn’t feel right doing it, but yet I wanted to scream at him. Even if Jean is a douchebag you don’t tell someone that nobody likes you, that’s just, a even douch-ier move. I love Eren. But to say not to feel bad is like telling someone who is about to kill themselves to get over it. Maybe he’s just trying to protect me from what I’m feeling now, but it doesn’t feel right to ignore it.

“It doesn’t matter Marco,” The words that Reiner was saying sounded so harsh, but his tone masked it, soft and quiet, like how he spoke to Bertholdt when they hugged.

“It matters to me.” I heard Reiner swallow, and he looked over to me, and I felt my heart flinch as if Reiner was going to slap me. Of course, he wouldn’t, Reiner was a warmhearted guy if you were on his good side. But some nervous, brain-thing told me he was.

“You’re a good man, Marco.” He murmured, a small chuckle leaving his lips, and the smile that followed the chuckle stuck to his face. I didn’t feel like a good man. I was just trying to be a decent person. Why do people treat me like some heavenly angel when i’m really messed up, and I treat people nicely because I’m scared of what they’ll do if I don’t. I’m not a fighter and that’s a bad thing. I just wanted to scream at him, and even as we sat down at the table I wanted to scream at everyone. They comforted me like I was the victim. They shouldn’t be comforting me, they should be comforting poor, lonely Jean Kirschstein, who was now probably out of the cafeteria, most likely still sniffling and whimpering with his arms crossed.

I felt bad. Because even though Jean Kirschstein acted like someone shoved a metal rod up his ass, he was still human.

**XXX**

I looked at Sasha, her face was still chock-full of popcorn. Every swallow and she’d immediately shove more it. Secretly I couldn’t wait until she finished that popcorn because sometimes Sasha could be really repulsive. She won’t stop talking but she won’t stop shoving popcorn down her face. And Armin can’t stop criticizing how scientifically inaccurate that movie was. And Reiner is laughing at Armin with Bertholdt under his arm who is quietly studying everyone. Eren was blatantly listening to Armin and Connie was snatching some popcorn from Sasha’s second bag, Annie was staring off into space probably dreaming of satanic death rituals.

Everyone was having fun but me. The boy who was convinced to go. The one who kicked Jean Kirschstein out of having fun.

I didn’t want to go. Well, In the first place, I really don’t like going out. I would rather be home and watch anime, but, people appreciate me and it feels great. And not everyone thinks going on tumblr and crying about their life problems a good thing to do with friends, so, if I want to give back the kindness they had given me, It was only right to go out with them. But the incident with Jean made the hopeless Marco come back. That awful feeling I felt on early winter mornings where all I wanted to do was sleep and be warm but I knew I had to go to school had returned. That’s the only way to explain it. I wanted to be warm, and safe, and in bed where my problems could be vented and I could relax and be alone.

I don’t know why I’m so worked up over it. I can’t even talk without sulking. Maybe since this is my first really bad social situation.

Sasha’s trying to cheer me up, I can tell. The whole downing popcorn as fast as she can is probably for me, she’s probably trying to make me laugh, so I force a smile on my face so she thinks she’s doing a good job. It’s not her fault, and so it’s not her responsibility to make me feel better. No matter how sad I am, seeing other’s upset is a million times worse. My gut gets all twisty and I feel sick and guilty in every way because I can’t help. Maybe that’s how Sasha feels right now. I can’t have her feel like that.

The ride home in Ymir’s rusty old van wasn’t fun either. I ended up yelping when we hit a big bump and I couldn’t help but think I was sitting in Jean Kirschtien’s spot. His grumpy, hooded eyes would be glaring at everyone if I were not sitting here. I feel awful, pathetic, it’s starting to hurt and I just want to go home and text him ‘im sorry’ for hours. I was then reminded I don’t have Jean’s phone number and he probably will just get even more pissed off at me if I do that.

I’m staring at Bertholdt and Reiner who are kissing each other goodbye. They aren’t cute anymore. It burns.

I shouldn’t be feeling like this towards my friends. It’s wrong.

I shouldn’t be so upset over Jean. Everyone is telling me to calm down and that I shouldn’t be sad, and I want to listen to them. I want the feeling to go away but it won’t. I want to be warm and safe in my bed and forget all about the man two-toned undercut that has been haunting me for ages. I remind myself I finally have friends, but I feel all queasy and sick now. Jean Kirschstein is getting under my skin and I hate him for it, but yet, I feel awfully bad for him.

It has to be because this is my first social pressure. It has to be.

Even in my bed that night, cozy underneath the duvets and covers that the cold fall air could not manage to get into, when I thought i’d be safe and warm, I was freezing.

**XXX**

Jean Kirschstein did not sit next to me the next day in art class.

He still sat alone, though, at the other table that wasn’t occupied by anyone else. At that sad, wooden table that was splattered in paint and looked just like the others, but even I rejected. I think Jean has something in common with that table.

Immediately I wanted to go home and bury myself under the blankets, even though I knew that wouldn’t help. The razor even crossed my mind, no, Marco, that’s bad. Don’t think about that.

I tried my best to avoid the drawing of him, I didn’t really want to look at it, and I had the urge to violently scribble it out so maybe it’d help me forget about him. But I didn’t. Of course I didn’t, I’m too nice, I wouldn’t want Jean to see it and have him be even more sad. And maybe scribbling out that drawing of him would destroy my image of the Jean I had probably lost. I don’t want that.  I would occasionally glance at him, trying to keep my pokerface instead of all out pouty-freckle-face thing that I accidentally did sometimes. I wanted to get up, but the teacher would yell. I so would if she wasn’t in the class. I don’t know when to stop, I know that, but I need to correct this.

What’dya know, I got my wish. Mrs Art Teacher left the room for a phone call. The room’s volume went up by five, and I saw my chance.

Even still I felt guilty, and the few moments that I took to gather my courage felt like hours, but the universe was giving me a present right now. And it didn’t give me a present very often so I may as well take it.

Shuffling awkwardly to the lonely Jean and his new buddy the sad-lonely-table, I gave him a sorry excuse for a wave. He glanced up at me, and his eyes slowly trailed away. I was looking at the Jean who I had seen outside of art class now, I realized, and I swallowed thickly. I really, really liked spending time with in-art-class Jean and I didn’t want that Jean leaving me so soon. Those usually narrow golden eyes looked big, and sad, and it hurt. “Hey.” I uttered softly, and Jean let out some sort snort or sigh in response. “Look, I uh, I’m sorry.”

No response. Figured. Jean’s pencil strokes were growing thicker, I could see his hand clench against the pencil. I still couldn’t stop. I was here now and I’m going to try and end this now. I need us to be on solid ground again.

“Jean?” I muttered, leaning on the table. Now I could get a clear shot of the deep brown freckle on his ear. “Jean, please.”

Jean’s voice didn’t come out loud and proud like it normally did. “It doesn’t matter.” He uttered, his voice lacking that sudden slam I adored and feared about his voice. He actually sounded kind of like me. Pathetic and small. Jean hung his head, using his long bangs to his advantage, they acted like a curtain to hide whatever facial expression he had.

“It does matter,” I responded, somewhat pleadingly. I wanted to give Jean a big hug, I wanted to give anyone who was sad a big hug, but especially him. But I can’t. “I feel really bad, and I really didn’t know, please don’t be mad at me.” I paused, listening for the non-existent response. I swallowed, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorr-.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter!” Jean’s pencil finally snapped and so did he. His hand slammed down on the table, loudly, the old wood screaming under his hand, and I responded with a loud yelp and I jumped backwards like the coward I was. The whole room had gone silent, everyone was staring at us now, and I slunk back to my seat. I tried to seem graceful about it, like I was a sneaky, invisible snake. I wish I could be sneaky about things, no one would notice me, but sadly, that wasn’t the case. Jean’s whole body was tense, his shoulders, his face, his everything, and the last thing I said to him was ‘Im sorry’. It’s the only thing I know how to say.

In a matter of moments the teacher had come back into the room, unknowing of what had just went down. I just ruined a friendship. Everyone could sense the dread coming off the both of us, Jean’s, and mine, his anger and my utter hopelessness. Everyone kept their mouth shut. Nobody spoke of it. Soon the small group of girls started talking again, and then the medium sized group of boys followed, and before I knew it everyone was chatting again and scribbling away like nothing had happened.

Jean had turned his head away. I could no longer see his face. His ashen hair completely covered it, and unlike I normally did, I couldn’t bring myself to think if he were crying or pissed, or maybe he looked just like I did, shocked and hurt. I couldn’t bring myself to draw, my hand just froze around the pencil.

Thanks a whole fucking lot, universe.

**XXX**

Jean missing from the lunch table became a common occurrence. He didn’t show up for three days, a weekend, and a monday. His evil glare missing from my life, and his gentle smile that I now longed for and missed so much gone, and it was all my fault. The saddest part was, no one seemed to care, all except me. Whenever I brought him up, or looked for his disapproving glare and instead got a glance of an empty seat Sasha would sigh sadly. Probably because I looked like a kicked puppy, not because Jean Kirstien was missing.

The day he had appeared in the lunch room, though, was surely surprising.

Connie, Sasha and I had been busily chatting away like normal. Something about the new chopped episode or something, Connie throwing words like they were the lightest balls on earth, and Sasha busily eating. I loved these two. They were real characters and I loved it. They made me feel a little less strange. Our small group of friends had been broken up into smaller groups often, me, Sasha, and Connie, with Eren and Armin, and Reiner, Bertl, and Annie. Jean didn’t belong anywhere. He floated outside the lines.

Sasha began to do her laugh that sounded like donkey’s having sex over something stupid, and Connie and I began laughing in reaction, Sasha’s head smacking the table as she continued to laugh.

“Oi, Yeager!”

We all stopped laughing. Sasha’s head basically flew back up as if she had never put it down in the first place. There was the Jean I knew, proud and trotting down the cafeteria straight towards us. Eren stared back at him like some kind of hawk, narrowing his eyes with as much pride as Jean had. The two looked more like wolves about to fight over territories more than two seniors about to scream at each other. Armin had already had a good grip of Eren’s arm, shaking his head no, but Eren completely ignored the blonde and stood.

Oh no.

“What is it,” Eren muttered, he acted like we were some group of babies that needed to be protected by a rebel. Jean was our friend. He treated him like a alien. Jean glared, Eren glared, and I let out a nervous squeak.

Jean’s mouth parted in a shit-eating smile.

Shit. I have no clue where this is going but I know it’s bad.

“I know why you told me that.” Jean hissed, and Eren crossed his arms. We all knew what Jean was talking about, and Sasha put her hand on my back just as she had last time we all saw Jean.

“Connie go get a teacher,” She uttered under her breath. Oh no. Had this happened before? Everyone seems to be acting as if this had been planned months in advance. They were all calm, as when I, the guy who keeps everyone on their feet, was panicking.

“Not yet,” Connie said quietly, “It’ll only piss them off more. If they touch each other...” Connie trailed off, but Sasha and I knew what he meant. That made sense. If nothing too bad went down and a teacher came, the two would only want to fight more. Maybe if they grab each other or something, then will be time. I’m just confused on why Reiner isn’t chasing off Jean, or Annie or Armin telling Eren to go sit back down. Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

“You’re jealous of me,” Jean said simply, cocking his head to the side, that smile even shittier if that was even possible. Jean was breaking his record on all time douchbag-iness and I knew if he kept this up Eren would pounce. Jean, what the hell are you doing?

Eren surprisingly laughed, but my relief only lasted a good five seconds. “Jealous of you? I’m so glad i’m not wearing lame leather jackets and, you’re a fucking loser. I’m rich, Jean, have you forgotten?” Jean and Eren traded expressions, and I got a little uncomfortable with Eren’s smirk. Weird. It’s out of his personality to smile like that.

Jean sighed, his frown only lasting a matter of seconds. His smile returned along with the snarky remark of; “Your mom.”

Eren’s eyes widened twice their size.

What the fuck is going on. Sasha apparently knew, she gasped quietly and grabbed my hoodie tight. Whatever it was it was bad.

“What the fuck did you just say to m, Kirschtien?” Eren growled, his voice strangely gravely and low. Armin let out a quiet murmur of ‘Eren...’, god, I wish Mikasa was here. No offense to Armin, but he’s doing an awful job at keeping Eren out of trouble.

“That’s right,” Jean cooed, and the way he said it almost made me blow up. Jean could be real fucking irritating and he knew it. “I have a mom, and you don't, you heard me.”

I didn’t even have time to take in the information and rage from Eren’s facial expression, he had already dived towards Jean. I flinched, Sasha and Armin yelped, but to my fear and slight relief, Jean had dodged it.

“Connie get the fucking teacher,” Sasha hissed, and Connie was gone in a matter of seconds.

Jean dodging that hit only meant that the real fight would commence. He stumbled over his leather boots, but quickly recovered, that smile turning into a gut wrenching grimace, corresponding to the white-knuckled fist that he was now raising over his hand, in a matter of seconds I realized no one was going to stop Jean from punching Eren and I knew I had to do something. I never wanted it to come down to this but I was probably going to have to separate their fight while sitting on Jean or something and yelling at him to calm the fuck down.

I wriggled out of Sasha’s grip, her pathetic yell of ‘Marco, no!’ not even making me rethink this. This was a dumb decision and I knew I would regret it later but all my instincts were screaming at me to do something.

I skidded to a stop in the middle of Jean and Eren, opening my mouth to yell something along the lines of ‘stop!’ until Jean’s bony fist slammed into my skull.

 **  
**Well, this definitely could have turned out better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean you screwed up you fucktard
> 
>  
> 
> I'm rushing the fuck outta this  
> don't worry they still won't kiss for a while lol
> 
> The tornado movie was really fun but at the same time it was so wrong I wanted to cry, but Nathan Cress's character deserved an award for best character in a shitty movie woo
> 
> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate comments and kudos ~ *v*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is also kinda shitty because I was visiting my grandparents when I was writing this and I really dont' want them to find out that my life is gay fanfiction
> 
> I couldnt find a good poem for the start of this chapter so I just snatched a piece of 'to this day' that really has nothing to do with Jean at all but whatever it fits somewhat

_he was three when he became a mixed drink_

_of one part left alone_

_and two parts tragedy_

_started therapy in 8th grade_

_had a personality made up of tests and pills_

**  
  
**

**XXX**

Of course the first thing that I thought was ‘oh shit that hurt’ as I basically fell to the floor. I can’t even take a punch from bony Jean Kirschstein, well, it was in the eye, but still. Jean can’t be that strong. But it hurt like hell. Like someone poured gasoline over my left eye and lit it on fire. Never had I been punched before, ever. I didn’t really think of who’s fault it was, just the building pain around my eye and the cold floor beneath my hands. Weakly, I raised a hand to my eye, still shaking. I didn’t even feel that scared, but I was shaking. And tears were leaking from the injured eye as I felt the skin around it start to pulse, and my head hurt, but I wasn’t scared. Or sad. And it didn’t even hurt that bad but I couldn’t stop the tears.The next thing I knew I was hearing screaming, and Sasha’s warm hands were pressed to my other arm.

“Are you okay?” She barked in my ear, and I winced from the volume of her voice.

“I’m fine,” I muttered. Then suddenly, I remembered, I wasn’t fine. I have a strict as hell mom at home who thinks I’m perfect and who will kill me if she thinks I was involved in a fight. Fuck me. I probably went slack jawed in regret and shock, because Sasha started yelling ‘What?’ at me. She was more visibly panicked then I was.

I knew I shouldn’t have, but my gaze shifted to the others. Armin was giving Eren a pretty decent scolding, and for Armin Arlert’s level of speaking, he was screaming pretty loud. He was mad, it was certain, and Eren looked really off put by it. But Jean, I felt immediately terrible. Of course now Reiner decided to get involved, Reiner was screaming at him now, but Jean wasn’t just being scolded at, Reiner was holding the poor boy against the wall.

He didn’t see me. That was my fault. Not his. Don’t yell at him.

Maybe it was his fault. He had picked a fight with Eren just to be a complete dick, but he didn’t mean to hit me. I don’t think Jean had that intention.

Jean was just taking it too, he wasn’t even yelling back, which was really unlike him. I locked eyes with him for a moment, and instead of the douchebag strutting towards the table about to assault Eren Yeager, he was a terrified 16-year-old being pinned against the wall. Jean I’m so fucking sorry. But just as Jean had looked at me, Sasha pulled me away, taking my head in her hands with a surprisingly soft touch.

“Let me see,” Sasha uttered, her meaty-hands softly curling around the one I was holding to my eye. I let her remove it, it was nothing to ashamed of. She started poking it though, so I winced in pain and swatted her away.

“Dont touch it, that hurts,” I uttered, still shocked. Did I really just get hit? Weird. It didn’t feel like it. Well, physically it did, but mentally I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Jean Kirschstein had just probably given me a black eye. Reiner was pinning Jean to a wall, I was on the floor with un-involuntary tears running down my cheeks, while Bertholdt was panicking and Connie was off to get a teacher. It really didn’t feel like it though, it kinda felt like I just had a bad migraine in my eye and everything was normal.

But when I was being dragged to the office with a sniffling Jean Kirschstein and Eren Yeager who wouldn’t stop apologizing, and the rest of the gang of friends in tow, I realized my situation was much worse than I thought.

But then they called my mom to come pick me up because I didn’t have the courage to say I tried to stop the fight. Or that it wasn’t Jean’s fault. Well, maybe it was, but, I don’t think he intended for anyone to get hurt. The Jean in art class wouldn't want for anyone to get hurt.

Still. Shit. My mom was coming here and she was going to scream.

**XXX**

Jean, Eren, Sasha, Reiner and I were awkwardly sitting in the hall outside the principal's office, Sasha giving me updates on how my face looked and Reiner growling at Jean and Eren. I’m sure Reiner was holding back from screaming at the two of them again. It was clear to me now that I would certainly have a black eye, Sasha told me that it was starting to turn purple and my eye was already starting to droop and grow heavy. Wonderful. I probably looked like a fucking idiot. When Eren’s dad came and dragged him out of the school, I was starting to get worried. Eventually Reiner was brought home too. I nervously leaned on Sasha, she being the only one keeping me and Jean from confronting each other. I know it’s not his fault, but I still can’t bring myself to say i’m not mad, truthfully i’m kinda scared. But, I’m not scared of him, I’m scared at the situation itself. Because right now I can hear Jean sniffling and small whimpers leaving his throat, I can’t bring myself to look at him but I know he’s crying, but he really didn’t seem very threatening. He didn’t mean it.

It was all really awkward. We were all quiet except for the long whine or sniffle from Jean, or the weird mumble of Sasha meaning to say something but she never did. I wished she did. I feel like sasha could make this seem better, but. I don't’ think Sasha was that powerful. She’d just rub my back. And poor, lonely Jean Kirschstein was left be. Even though Jean nailed me right in the face I still wanted to give the guy a big hug, but I was scared. I didn’t even want to look at him. I don’t know why I’m scared, I wasn’t scared of him, far from it.

When my mom came I felt some swell of relief, but yet, oh dear god she’s going to kill me.

The principal took my mom and I into the little meeting room, and this little meeting room was constricting me completely and I felt like I was going to throw up my internals. As soon as the principal left the room, I took a deep breath, oh god, here it comes. I tried to become one with the chair I sat in to avoid the world, but my mom’s stare kept me here. Plus, it’s sadly not possible to become one with the chair. I wish it was. That would be so useful.

As soon as I gulped down heavily, my mom’s feeble fists slamming on the table surprisingly loud for such a worn out woman, I yelped, and she screamed. “Marco Bodt, what the hell were you thinking?” Her skinny lips formed every word with so much hate I felt like I could cry right then. I already was.

I couldn’t manage to say the word that was struggling to get out. The meeting room was closing around my throat and the words would not come out. I shrugged. This only made her worse. Fuck me.

“Don’t just shrug at me!” She hissed, and I started to slip down further in my chair, trying to feel as small as possible. Maybe if I felt small, she’d get less mad. Maybe.

“I-I didn’t know, I-I thought h-he’d...”

“You thought he’d stop, Marco? That’s not how things work!” She slammed her hands down on the table again, her multiple rings clinging against the hard surface. “How much have I told you not to get involved in things that you don’t need too!”

I don’t really think she expected me to speak up. At all. She seemed more shocked. “b-But I do need to, they’re my friends,” I choked out weakly, a few more hot tears running down my cheeks. Why was I even crying? I was starting to sniff and whimper weakly just like Jean was back in the hall, in a matter of seconds my mom turned me into a pouty mess. My mom’s facial expression contorted, and I knew exactly what she was going to say.

“Friends don’t punch friend’s in the face!”

“He didn’t mean it, mom!” I yelled. We both froze, we both realized what I had done at the same exact time. And as I started trying to become one with the chair again my mom’s facial expression contorted, the herd of wrinkles around her eyes contorting to add to the anger.

I had yelled. I had yelled at her.

I’m fucking screwed.

The brief silence that we shared, I realized something. Something totally stupid, some muffled screaming and sobbing outside the room, something that made my stomach churn even more than it already was.

Sasha was screaming at Jean. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I could hear the both of them shouting at each other's, Jean’s voice sounding more like a broken video game. His shouting was more like, well, plain out broken sobs. The only words that I could understand were ‘What the hell happened to you?’, or, ‘I didn't mean it!’. Even as my mom screamed at me, It only became background noises. My friend’s were fighting, about me. About me! That’s fucking insane! The guy who watches anime and cuts himself, I don’t even have a fucking full-time job/ They’re fighting over that, pathetic excuse for a life who will probably end up accidentally killing himself, dead and bled-out in the bathtub, my freckled corpse left only for my mom to scream at. It wasn’t even Jean’s fault I was punched, it was my fault, I ran out without thinking and he didn’t see me.

The thought hit me that by the end of the year i’m supposed to be an adult. A fucking adult. I don’t feel like one. I’m sobbing while my mom is screaming at me, I still watch the fucking smurfs, I still procrastinate, and most importantly the drama I have gotten into has been the same since middle school.

I was dragged out of that room by my mom, I couldn’t even see out of my swollen, droopy eye anymore and I was certain I looked like a fucking idiot. Sasha and Jean had both gone completely silent as my mom dragged me out, and it made me feel worse as they probably thought I couldn’t take it or something. I felt like a child. A fucking child. I’m supposed to be a legal adult on June 16th and I’m still treated like some precious child. Well, I am pretty immature when it comes to things. Hell, there is all these miraculous recovery stories about adults who were cutters in their teen years, I’m basically a adult, and there is absolutely no light. ‘ll never get out of this, I’ll end up killing myself during one of my flashes and my brain will decide I should start cutting vertically instead of horizontally. I don’t think I’ll ever get better. It doesn’t seem likley, at least. My mom still bosses me around, I don’t have a fucking future, I have no chance of being successful. I will always be just Marco Bodt.

Once I saw Jean’s face matched my own, tear stained and red (besides the fact that he laked freckles and a black eye), I couldn’t help the “I’m sorry’ that left my lips.

My mom paused, and slapped me across the face, hard. I turned away quickly enough so I couldn’t see my friend’s reactions, it would hurt too much, and if I had any more hurt at the moment I was afraid I’d throw up. My cheek stung, my whole body fucking stung, I just wanted to go home and nap forever. That was the first time my mom put her hands on me like that, but it wasn’t a huge shocker. I knew that was going to come eventually.

My mom led me out by my wrist. I didn’t whimper, or whine, I was afraid another yell, or slap would come, and my confidence would plummet even more. I thought my confidence was completely un-existent, but apparently not. Wonderful. This was the first time I had cried in a while. That hopeless little feeling came back but so much worse, because this time something really bad happened. and Jean was fucking sobbing, not even trying to hide it. Because of me. And Sasha was screaming because of me.

I’m fucking scared. Again.

Though everyone was siding with me, I was too nice, they should be siding with Jean. He didn’t mean it. He’s probably lonely, and scared, just like how I felt now.

**XXX**

I took my mom going to work in the morning for granted.

Crying alone was okay. I didn’t feel so bad when I was alone. I didn’t really cry hysterically or anything, just a tear every now and then. Because in my bed, self-pity wasn’t a sin. And America’s Next Top Model was no longer considered ‘gay’ to watch when nobody was around to call me that. But, this morning was particularly shitty. It was kind of scary, blindly searching for warmth that would never, ever be in my bed while I was slowly waking up, even though right now I was really craving a hug, I knew I’d never let anyone fill the void I needed to be filled. Well, yesterday was a prime example of why I will never, ever let anyone get too close to me.

My pillow was also wet, and my face felt all sticky and sweaty, my head hurting from crying last night. Even the duvets couldn’t hug away my problems today. Even my grumpy moaning didn't’ let my problems go today. Even after stretching my body still felt sore. I knew I wasn’t going to school today. I was too scared, I didn’t want to face Jean. What if he’s mad at me? What if he starts crying? I can’t deal with a crying person when other people are watching. After a few minutes of telling myself I was okay, I realized ‘Fuck it, I’m not okay’, and went on with my day. Trotting downstairs in only my boxers and almost stumbling down the stairs because of the lack of eyesight in my left eye, I went to the kitchen and got my breakfast, which consisted of a jar of peanut butter. I plopped down on the couch and switched on the TV. I knew I was sad, because I didn’t even feel bad about ditching school. I did not want to show up with a black eye and have people think I beat someone up or something. I don’t want rumours to spread. And my eye looks weird, it’s all purple and my eyelid is fat, I can’t even raise my eyebrow on that side. It doesn’t hurt much, and I’m not even capable of thinking ‘Jean gave me this’. Truthfully I could care less right now if Jean punched me. I felt bad for him. I felt lonelier than ever even though everyone was siding with me.

I snuggled down on my couch with the peanut butter jar and spoon being my only company, switching on a morning re-run of Drake and Josh. You know what, screw adult shows. I am a seventeen-year-old boy and I will laugh at Josh wearing a dress every time I see it. And I really needed that right now, as my awful, shitty sleepy-feeling really needed to go away. I hated the gut-wrenching, fearful sadness more than the sleepy-shitty feeling, but still, shitty-sleeping feeling sucked pretty bad too.

After a few hours of Drake and Josh and Zoey101, the not-so-adult me turned on fucking spongebob instead since it was on marathon for a few hours. My day had quickly been wasted away in 12-year-old’s comedy shows and peanut-butter, the shitty-sleepy feeling strikes again, school would be out in two hours and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Jean Kirschstein was up too. I checked facebook a few times. Everyone was offline, they all had gone on early this morning, which showed everyone woke up early to go to school.

The worse part of being depressed is that people give you free friendship. It sucks. It sounds pretty good, but it feels so fake it really starts to hurt after awhile. That’s why I don’t tell anyone I have depression, or that I cut, or that I can go fucking crazy if someone touches me in a way I don’t like, or says some words that my brain doesn’t agree on, or I see some painting of a guitar and my mind goes ‘ew what the fuck!’. Because they’ll be my friends out of sympathy and I don’t want that. And once the smart, rational side of my brain starts talking, I don’t even want friends. But the part of me that makes me search for human warmth in my bed every time I wake up in the morning. I’m a seventeen-year-old boy who watches Drake and Josh and is afraid to date and never has felt the strong grip of a hand-hold or the gentle caress of a cheek, or the soft lips that were involved in a goodnight kiss. Not that I’m saying I’d expect soft lips, most guys don’t use chapstick.

I kept checking to see if Jean was on, not excepting that he was at school. I hoped he stayed at home, I don’t want people to be giving him dirty looks, or Sasha yelling at him again, and him to think I’m a coward for not showing up to school. But that little green dot never appeared next to his name. When I thought too hard about it I wanted to once again become one with my couch. Instead I just held my face in my hands and breathed slowly until my mind was clear, or just drowned out my sorrow in the Spongebob theme song blaring from the TV. I’m so glad mom has to work today. She’ll never know I never went. I don’t even care that she slapped me. I just feel bad about every single thing.

I thought about the razor a few times. The relief that it brought, the physical pain over powering the mental. I decided not to. It popped up a few times, but then Mister Smith’s words echoed in my head of “Cutting will only make your life harder” and I dismissed it.

At 2:30PM the spongebob marathon ended and so did school. I changed it back to Nickelodeon, Icarly was on, even though I thought about watching Drphil, but I realized Drphil would probably make me sad. I watched it in peace, avoiding my sadness my laughing hysterically at Sam’s buttersock, not feeling self conscious about the scars that ran down my wrists in the form of long X’s, the most recent ones from my last attack still a light pink. I was lucky my mom found me when she did, I could have bled out. Even though I was still going strong at the hospital, I had knocked one of the nurse’s out with a solid kick to the nose. I don’t think they expected a 6’1, two-hundred-pound-male kicking and screaming being wheeled in with blood all over his arms. I’m pretty fucking awful.

I realized it had taken me six hours to finish my jar of peanut butter before setting the now-empty container down on the coffee table. I don’t think mom would mind too much. As the end of Icarly came at 3:00PM, I heard the hum of a motorcycle outside. I didn’t think much of it, until the sound went dead, and I heard footsteps up my porch, and a knock on the door.

Visitors. I am not prepared. I am pantless and shirtless, there is an empty jug of peanut butter and I probably have a little on my face, I look and feel like shit, I have a black-eye, I probably smell awful and Icarly is still on the TV.

“Give me a second! I need to put pants on!” I yelled at the door, which probably wasn’t the best thing to yell at a stranger, nonetheless I ran to my room and stuck some sweats on, a green-sweater, and a messily combed my hair and washed my face, my ugly black eye staring back at me.

I stomped back down stairs totally forgetting to turn off the TV, and I ever-so-carefully opened the door so only the uninjured side of my face showed to the person who had knocked. “Hello?”

I almost had a fucking heart attack.

Jean Kirschstein was standing at my door with a kind of expression I’d put on. He was red faced, and certainly fidgeting, and instead of his  neatly slicked-back undercut the blonde hair on the top just lazily flopped over the darker part of his hair. He had a motorcycle helmet under his arm like you’d hold a book. Most importantly, he was wearing glasses. They were sqaure, and kinda small, but the glass was really thick. Coke-bottle thick. He looked human and it scared me. Plus, holy fuck, Jean Kirschstein was at my door! How did he even know where I lived? I swallowed staring at him for a few moments while he stared at me, and we both rubbed the back of our necks in sync.

“Uh, Hey Jean...” I choked out, not opening the door anymore than it was. Jean cleared his throat, punching his chest awkwardly, and he seemed to forget his helmet was under his arms and it loudly clattered to the ground.

“Ah! Shit,” He mumbled to himself, jumping back so it didn’t land on his foot. Jean clumsily picked it up, and thats when I noticed the flowers in his other hand. Were those for me? “Uh, hi, Marco,” He stuttered, running his free hand through his messy ashen mop of hair. “Uh, I uh, hey.” He repeated, and we both laughed nervously.

“How do you know where I live?”

“Uh, school directory...” He smiled nervously, “I wasn’t stalking you, I swear.” The pink on his cheeks was still ever so present, and suddenly I felt safer, because Jean looked as scared as I felt. He swallowed heavily, and I let him gather his thoughts. I knew what was coming, but I really didn’t want it. “Look, Marco, I’m really sorry. About everything.”

“You don’t need to be,” I scoffed quietly, forgetting my eye looked like shit and opening the door the rest of the way. Jean totally lost all seriousness, and he cringed, his helmet slipping out from under his arm once more, and falling to the ground. He really didn’t seem to care. “Your eye! Oh jesus, man, it’s all, purple and shit!”

I blushed awkwardly, oh yeah, forgot about that. Quick, Marco, come up with some snarky remark so Jean won’t feel bad! “It’s cool, purple is my favorite color anyways.”

Smooth. For once I was smooth. I wasn’t lying anyway, purple was the shit.

Jean laughed, nervously though, as I don’t think either of us could laugh for real right now. It was too awkward and holy fucking shit Jean Kirschstein was standing on my porch acting human. “Well uh, anyways,” Jean said, calmly picking up his helmet again, “Sorry about, yesterday, and the day before, and just, you know, being a dick.”

“It’s cool.”

“I got you some flowers, and uh, apology present, sorry for punching you, I uh-,”

“Jean, I know you didn’t mean it,” I said with an awkward smile, and jean looked a little shocked, but he didn’t say anything about the fact.

“Sorry for getting you in trouble with your mom, too.”

“Jean, that was my fault.”

“No, no, that was my fault, man,” Jean said with real human concern in his voice. It was weird seeing him like this outside of art class. “I was bein’ a dick.” I couldn’t argue with that. Jean was being a dick. But, it still wasn’t his fault that I had gotten hit. I then realized Jean wasn’t talking just about him punching me but everything else. I had been waiting for this moment and now my stomach was starting to twist with guilt, wonderful.

“I guess I can’t argue with you, hm?” I sighed with a small grin, eyeing the motorcycle in front of my lawn, and then eyeing the helmet underneath Jean’s arm. That must be his motorcycle. Cool. Jean still really kept his punk-kid rep, as the whole getup he had was still apparent. But Jean was being nice, and as long as he was being nice, I couldn’t give two shits about what he was wearing. Anyway, with Jean’s body type, the skinny-jeans and leather jackets were flattering. Did I mention that Jean is very handsome? Well, yeah, he is.

Jean laughed, shrugging his shoulders. We stared at each other for a few minutes, well it was probably only five seconds, but it felt like a while. Those golden eyes of his were insane, Jean was so interesting, just his appearance alone was intriguing. I was boring, so were my eyes. Suddenly, Jean coughed awkwardly, “I, uh, can I come in? Maybe?”

I swallowed, and quickly stumbled back, opening the door for him. “Sure!” I said swiftly, not really sure how to invite Jean in. Politely, Jean stepped inside and rid himself of his boots. Even his mannerisms were different from his normal ass-hole self. Maybe Sasha pulled that rod out of his ass.

“Thanks for this,” Jean muttered, scratching his cheek. He handed me the flowers,they were three white Camellias, the three flowers plump and lively. Jean smiled once I did. Man, this is so fucking sweet, he is so fucking sweet. His shy smile that is still kind of awkward, awkward enough to make me feel comfortable. The way his fingers curl around the edges of his leather jacket like I do with my big hoodies.

“Ah, Jean, you’re too nice,” I said with a smile, curling my fingers around the stems. “I’m gonna go get some water for these, thank you,” I repeated, going to the kitchen quickly and getting a glass, filling it part-way with water, and plopping the flowers in. I’ll put them in my room once Jean leaves.

I rushed back into the living room, not wanting to leave the first guess I had in years alone for too long. And this guest was Jean Kirschstein. But as I rushed back into the livingroom, Jean was wearing a smirk.

“Watching Icarly with no pants on, hm?” Jean said, not even looking at me. He sounded so fucking smooth I had to laugh. I am pretty ridiculous.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, plopping down on my couch. Jean took his shoes off, so Im assuming he wants to say. The bad thing is I don’t know what to say or do, I haven’t had a friend over in millions of years. A friend. Is Jean a friend or is he just coming over to apologize? Ah, I don’t know. Jean stared at me sitting on the couch, his eyes looking into my un-droopy one, and I realized he was trying to ask me if he could sit on the couch. Ah yes, I had forgotten, going over to someone's house for the first time is really awkward. Plus, Jean punched me in the face. This must be awfully weird for him. I patted the seat next to me on the couch with a smile. “You wanna sit?” Jean nodded, and shuffled over to the couch, sitting down stiffly as if I’d slap him across the face if he sat wrong. “Hey, It’s okay, make yourself at home. I could care less if you poured chocolate sauce all over my couch.”

Jean raised his eyebrow with a laugh. His back slouched against the the couch.

“I mean, please don’t do that. But you can.”

Whenever I try to be funny I fail drastically. Jean smiled anyway.

Jean and I stayed quiet for a few moments, watching Icarly on the TV together, and for a second I felt a real connection once Jean started staring slack-jawed at the tv. Yes. Someone likes Icarly. Someone my ages likes Icarly. C’mon, Icarly is the shit, admit it. It’s almost as good at the color purple.

Jean started laughing like I was a hour ago at some stupid joke, and oh god, I couldn’t even help cracking up too. The way his smile grew open and his eyebrows furrowed, he really looked like he was forcing it out but it sounded smooth, and real, and proud. Fuck it was cute. A lot cuter than my gasping-for-air laugh. After the two of us calmed, I looked at him with a smile, and he looked back at me. “Dude your eye is fucking weird.”

“I know,” I snickered, poking it, “Wanna touch it? It pulsates.”

“Ew man, doesn’t that hurt?”

“Nah. Just feels funny, here,” I took his hand in mine, and his hands felt surprisingly fragile, and suddenly I regretted touching them. I felt like I was holding a baby animal, and if I squeezed to much, I’d break them. But I eventually led his hand to my eye, and he started poking it awkwardly, making weird little noises to go with it.

“Ew man. Weird. It really doesn’t hurt?” Jean asked, his hand dropping back to his lap. I shook my head no. Jean Kirschstein smiled, but his soft smile quickly ended with a heavy sigh. “I probably have some explaining to do, right?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, like, ‘bout everything.”

I suddenly understood what he meant. This is what I had been looking for, but now I really didn’t want to hear it, I swallowed nervously, and slowly nodded. “You don’t have to tell me. But you can.”

“Promise you won’t yell at me,” Jean said, and I was taken aback by his statement. I shook my head no, and I realized why Jean was asking me not too. The others had. The others had told me he was a crybaby and a jackass with no reason to be a jackass. I swallowed nervously.

“I wouldn’t dare,” I said quickly, and Jean smiled softly. But not a happy smile, more of a relieved smile. Where his lips hardly tugged upwards. He sighed, again. I can tell Jean is trying to calm himself down. I put a hand on his back, and I probably had never felt the need to be this supportive in my whole life. “It’s okay,” I said quietly, trying to reassure him. Jean obviously had an issue with what people thought of him.

“Okay, so, I’m kind of a dick,” he started, and I kind of wanted to laugh, because all his preparation for a sentence that silly was just strangely funny to me. “And I, I don’t really make sense, I guess. I know I probably confused you with my whole different personality thing,” I couldn’t help but nod, “But, the reason for that was because I wanted to be friends with you, but I had no idea you were going to sit with the others. I was only acting like that for them, not you. Weird, I know,” Jean shook his head, and I patted his back to reassure him to keep going. I like listening to Jean. Especially now, I’m starting to feel better about everything, that finally i’ll be relieved of the stress of figuring out Jean Kirschstein. “Okay, Okay, I guess, god, how do I put this...”

“Don’t be nervous, buddy, I don’t judge,” I said with a smile. I really don’t judge people, sometimes I do, but I really find it that I don’t have a right to judge people as I am judged very often by others and it sucks. Jean smiled softly, nodding his head.

“My mom left the house when I was five.” He began, and I immediately knew this was going to be bad. This meant Eren and the others had been falsely accusing Jean because of something he was experiencing at home, something they had no idea about. I was already worried, just with that short sentence, Jean already seemed to be holding back screams. “And my dad’s an alcoholic.” Dear god. “And, obviously, look at me, I’m not much of a physical fighter,” Jean spread out his bony fingers in display, as every other part of his body was covered by leather. “And, well, He’s abusive. I guess.” Jean shrugged, I could tell though, he was hiding something behind that ‘I guess’. “Dad got a girlfriend. Things got worse, the more people the more abuse I guess. He just yelled at me a lot, and I ended up locked in my room a lot, and admittedly, I’m weak, So i’d cry,” Jean snorted quietly, and it was joking, but yet oh-so-sad it made my stomach lurch. “I still cry. But, that’s not the point, I guess, I cried so much, and he didn’t like that. I got called a crybaby a lot, so, I kinda got, self conscious, I guess.” The use of his ‘I guess’ was irritating me, because I knew he was trying to seem laid back about the situation and I didn’t like it.

Once Jean’s voice started to crack I wanted the ‘I guess’s to come back.

“I-I mean, I got so fucking scared I was over emotional around my dad I held back, and school was the only time I was away from him, so,” Jean took a moment, trying to call himself down a little, and I felt even worse. Jean is really open to feelings and it’s obvious. Not that it’s a bad thing. “I guess everyone got sick of it. Of me.” Jean’s voice cracked hard, and he bit down on his lip, not replying for a few, long seconds.”They started saying I was over emotional. I started online school and, I guess, I came back for senior year because I wanted them to see I wasn’t over emotional.” Jean shrugged, and I was so intensely staring at his face to catch any signs of a tear, and I don’t even know what I’d do if he started crying. Well, I’d comfort him. I think I’m kinda good at comforting people, I don’t know where I learned it from, my mom isn’t a very comforting lady and my dad I haven’t seen in years. Maybe its just because I understand a lot. I’m not trying to brag, I swear to god. “But Eren and I had gotten into a lot of fights. Especially when his mom died, I mean, I was complaining about my parents when he had lost one. So I think he holds a grudge against me. I hold a grudge against him.” Jean shrugged again, biting down on his lip. “I wanted him to see I wasn’t a crybaby anymore. I always told him my mom left me for dead, and he’d explain how his mom was dead, and one day we got into a really bad fight and my dad almost murdered me.” Jean let out the most god awful, fakest chuckle i’ve ever heard. The gentle hand I had put on his back tensed, balling up in the fabric on Jean’s jacket. “He almost murdered me, and then I got kicked out. Left for dead.”

Jean paused for a while, the only sound in the room being the insanely out-of-context yelling of Sam and Carly from the TV. His jaw tensed, and Jean’s voice cracked around the words “Again.”

Left for dead. Again.

Jean’s lips went into a contorted frown and forced together, his normally low-set eyebrows arching, and I knew that expression as if it were the face of my own mother. Jean was going to cry and he was trying to hold it back. I could almost feel it, the knot in his throat, the stinging in his eyes, I knew I needed to do something, so I just absent-mindedly pulled Jean into a hug.

It was kinda weird at first. I just clung to him, wrapping my arms tightly around his chest which forced his head into my shoulder, and it was the first time I had dived in for a hug first in years. It was nice actually, Jean’s warmth, his broad chest pressed against mine, and I quickly reminded myself this is why I was gay. Men are fucking hot. But I need to focus on making Jean feel better for now. I let go the breath I had been holding when I felt Jeans arms slip underneath mine, his head resting on my shoulder willingly. It felt great. When Jean started to whimper I started to rub his back, whispering dumb things in an attempt to calm him down, doing the only thing I was really good at. The way his fingers curled into my sweater’s fabric made me gasp, and I had to remind myself that I need to stop enjoying this as much as I was. Just Jean trusting me with something as big as this felt great, but his warmth, and his hands, and his body. Even the small things, I could feel his glasses press against my neck, and his chest move with every long whine that left his lips, and oh god Jean Kirschstein was perfect.

Oh god. Jean Kirschstein is perfect.

Oh no.

Suddenly the awkward train pulled into the station, dropping off the thought that; shit, Jean Kirschstein is fucking perfect and I think I like him more than I should. Thankfully for me, Jean pulled away, wiping his perfect eyes with his perfect hands, biting down on his perfect lip briefly before a sigh left his perfect throat. “You stink, dumbass,” He uttered, but, he smiled slightly. A perfect smile.

I pushed back my gay urges to smile back, “I haven’t showered in a while, sorry.” Jean playfully punched me in the shoulder, though it was kind of weak, he was still sniffling and obviously worked up. “Hey, I know what can cheer you up,” I hummed, and Jean raised an eyebrow. If my calculations are correct, Jean should find a mug of hot chocolate and some episodes of Icarly comforting. “I’ll go grab you some hot chocolate, and, maybe we can chill out and watch some tv? That sound good?”

Jean’s lips cracked into a bigger smile, and he nodded quickly, “Thanks Marco.”

“It’s no problem,” I hummed before heading into the kitchen. Making hot cocoa was easy, all you really needed was chocolate mix and a microwave, usually I’m lazy and I just make it with water, but Jean is special and I’ll make his with milk. Milk for the perfect Jean Kirschstein.  I was quick, but careful not to spill the hot chocolate after it was finished, carrying it back to the living room with soft but sturdy grip, giving it too Jean before plopping down on the couch next to him.

“Thank you,” He repeated, and I did that thing that Armin did; swatting the air like there was an invisible fly around as if to dismiss his thanks. Jean sighed, and I heard him softly sip on the hot drink, “I mean it. No one has ever listened to me before.”

I reached out to jokingly pat his head, and he chuckled quietly, resuming noisily sipping on the hot chocolate. Cute. “But, Jean,” I started, the partial blonde looking back at me in response to his name, “Crying isn’t a weakness. That sounds pretty shitty, I’d be upset too,” Jean swallowed, and I patted his shoulder reassuringly with a dumb weak from my good eye. “I’d say you’re pretty brave.” Both of us paused, and Jean seemed to be waiting for me to go ‘just kidding’ and kick him out. But when I never did, Jean’s lips broke into the most genuine grin I’d ever seen.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” I said, returning the smile. Jean has an abusive family and people who constantly teased him, and yet he can pull of a smile with that much honesty. I feel bad, nothing at all has happened to me besides my mom being kinda strict and I slit my wrists all the time. Well, I haven’t cut since, well, last month, I think. But I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon, I really don’t have a reason too. “But I can’t help but wonder, are you, uh, still on the streets?”

Jean shook his head, “It was a while ago when I got kicked out. I have my own apartment now.”

“Really?” I gasped, dumbstruck. I forgot that not everyone still lives with their mom. I forgot that people have real jobs instead of working at your aunts fruit stand once a week.

“Yeah,” Jean shrugged, “Dad, still visits me. I kinda wish he’d just leave me alone, though,” Jean huffed heavily, and I watched his chest heave under all that leather. I patted his back roughly, but playfully, and we smiled at each other before falling silent and watching TV together.

Somehow his head ended up in my lap, and he was hugging one of my couch cushions, and I had a leg curled over his waist while we watched nickelodeon. I didn’t even begin to care what show was on the tv, I was spending time with Jean Kirschstein, his perfect body was sitting on the same couch as I was.

Eventually he had to leave, it was a Wednesday and school was tomorrow, so we both needed to go to bed early. We hugged again, and it felt absolutely wonderful, before he hopped on his motorcycle and drove off. This guy has a fucking motorcycle, how hot is that?

I shamefully carried the pillow he had been hugging to bed. I tried to resist it, but, I guess since I was alone it was okay. Well, my mom would be home from work in an hour, but it’s not like she’d know that my new crush was hugging that pillow. No, no, Jean isn’t my crush, he’s just a good friend with an attractive body. Okay, ah, fuck it, I like-like him, full homo. Oh well.

I gotta say Jean has a nice scent. The pillow smelt like him that he had been clutching. He smelt like, punk music, motorcycle gas and tears. I like it though, it's strangely nice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just by the way giving someone white Camellias means you think they are cute. You can decide if Jean knew that or not.
> 
> oh shit they hang out and jean cries because he's a baby  
> I may or may not have based Marco's lazy day off of all of my lazy days (Icarly and drake and josh are the shit man)  
> don't worry they will get drunk soon enough  
> Oh yeah and a few of my stupid headcanons are revealed. Jean has a motorcycle and glasses. Marco's favorite color is purple. woohoo
> 
> (marco stop being gay)  
> Thanks for comments and kudos! I appreciate them *v*!  
> I will probably take a short break from this to write a one shot >v


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones kinda short. And shitty. I promise the next one will be longer
> 
> Slight ArminXMarco in this one?? Not really, Armin just sits on Marco's lap
> 
> And slight trigger warning as well?

_See relationships, they often remind me that I'm not afraid of heights or falling_

_But I'm scared of what's gonna happen_

_The moment that my body hits the ground_

**  
  
  
**

**XXX**

“Hey guys, look, I’m really sorry...”

Ah, this was weird. I told Jean I’d have his back and now I’m just awkwardly staring at everyone with my hand on his back. Maybe that’s what I meant, because I haven’t really said anything yet. I’m a little scared too, Jean’s big apology thing was making me have some bad second-hand embarrassment. Jean and I had agreed that he’d set things straight at lunch, and we had both prepared for the worst, but things were going pretty good so far. Well, it was still nerve wracking. I was trying to prevent the blush from spreading over my face, but, it was hard, with everyone staring at the two of us. But every once in a while Jean would tremble under my hand, and I’d rub his back for a few moments until he calmed down, and I had some weird sense of protection going through me when that happened. He seemed to be keeping it together on the outside, his voice was calm and steady, he hadn’t even stuttered. He’d just shake occasionally, the smallest tremble or cough.

Jean explained some. Just briefly about his dad, and that was really it. He promised he would start acting like himself again. I don’t think he wanted to cry again like he had with me, so he didn’t go too deep. I promised him if he started to cry, I’d hide him away, so I think he felt okay about crying, but still wanted to avoid it.

Jean had fallen silent after the final, awkward repeat of “Im sorry,” at the end of his explanation, and everyone stared for a few moments. And I was afraid that someone would yell, and I think Jean feared it too, because he shot me a nervous glance and swallowed loudly, his adams apple bobbing in his throat.

“It’s cool.” Connie broke the silence. Thank the lord for Connie Springer and his no-fear of being the first to speak.

“Really?” Jean uttered, Sasha and Connie exchanging glances before nodding, smiling in a comforting but yet smug way. I have no clue how those two do it. No one had even pulled out their food yet, even Sasha, as the situation was a little intense and a little nerve-wracking. Plus I don’t think Annie or Jean had lunch.

“Yeah, sure, it’s alright,” It was Reiner’s turn to speak, and his big, muscular arm reached over my head to pat Jean’s. Jean jumped, but eventually gave into the weird gesture of affection, smiling. Annie and Bertholdt simply nodded in agreement, Bertholdt putting on a little smile for Jean, while Annie’s nod carried some kind of respect despite her monotone expression. I watched a smile creep up on Jean’s lips, and I decided it was okay to take my hand off his back.

“Thanks guys,” Jean muttered, rubbing the side of his head in a way that slightly ruffled his ashen hair. He wore some kind of expression that Armin or even I would make, the soft blush covering his cheeks, a smile that basically read ‘Aw shucks’. Fuck Jean Kirschstein is cute. I wish he wasn’t cute, but he is. “M-Me and Marco talked yesterday, and, uh,” Jean rubbed his cheek and shrugged, “I guess we straightened things out, eh?” Jean not-so-lovingly elbowed me in the ribcage, and I not-so-lovingly hissed in slight pain. He let out some kind of amused chuckle while I returned his chuckle with my own nervous one. Well I guess Jean still doesn’t have a sense of personal space, ouch. His elbow-bones are like daggers, this guy is so bony, damn.

Eren on the other hand wasn’t all smiles and giggles. He had puffed out his cheeks and was making a face like a five-year-old would when they didn’t get a toy. Jean cleared his throat awkwardly, it being my turn to put on an amused smile. “Say your sorry, Jean,” I said, poking in between his shoulderblades before gesturing to Eren. Everyone fell silent, holding back their giggling, even Armin. Jean and Eren could really be childish sometimes. Well, they acted like two damn five-year-olds trapped inside two sixteen-year-olds.

“I already said I was sorry!” Jean hissed at me, his cheeks bright red.

“Well say it to Eren.” I cooed back, and Jean bit his lip, shaking his head ‘no’ while I nodded my head ‘yes’.

Jean finally gave in, sighing heavily. “Uh, Eren, I’m uh, s-sor-” Jean paused, sending me a nervous glance. I started to egg him on with a gesture, causing Jean to sigh and roll his eyes.  “Sorry,” Jean finally choked out. Now was that so hard? Eren huffed, pouting his lip for a few moments before Armin shoved him and he finally cut the shit.

“It’s fine,” Eren mumbled, him and Jean making direct eye contact for a good second. Yes, progress! “Sorry about saying the whole, you know, no-friends-thing..” Eren uttered, before all of us started jokingly cheering, Sasha and Connie especially. Sasha and Connie liked to milk the humor out of everything, I liked to believe if this was a TV show, those two would be the comedic relief. I think they liked it that way. I laughed quietly, loosely wrapping an arm around Jean’s chest, hugging him close for a moment before letting go.

“Quit laughing, asshole,” Jean murmured to me, but I knew he was just grumpily joking, and it made me chuckle harder. Ah yes, things were going to start getting better from here and I just knew it. I could stop stressing over Jean Kirschstein, and my friend group would be happy once more. Big happy family. And if my friends are happy, then I’m happy.

Eventually everyone started eating, besides Annie and Jean who didn’t have lunch. I wasted no time in ripping in half my sandwich and giving the other half to Jean, who promptly thanked me and began eating. Thank god Sasha hadn’t caught that, she would be on my ass in seconds. Sasha and Connie were feeding each other chips, which was actually pretty damn cute, and for once Sasha wasn’t hogging all the food. Jean actually talked, and he actually smiled, and he didn’t just talk to me, it felt really nice, actually. Seeing Jean happy made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Seeing everybody happy was great.

It’s kinda scary, I know I really like Jean. He’s handsome, he’s perfect, he’s nice, He’s everything I wanted in life. I didn’t even know I wanted that. I never thought I’d even want a relationship and its starting to scare me, It’s only been a day so far and I’m already really liking him. I know this probably won’t turn out good, and I’m probably going to have my heart broken sometime later, but oh well. Right now I’ll just accept the fact I really like Jean, it’s not hurting anything for the moment.

Jean even started to thank me after lunch. I have no clue why, but he wouldn’t stop saying ‘thank you’. I don’t really think I did anything, but really there is no point in telling Jean to stop thanking me, so I let him.

It actually feels kinda good, him thanking me. He means it too, it’s genuine. Nobody has really honestly thanked me like this before.

**XXX**

Jean still hasn’t drawn me in Art Class. Not that I have seen him draw me yet, at least. I really wouldn’t mind, but I drew a picture of him when we first met, It’s only fair for him to return the gift, right? Or am I asking for too much from him? Well, anyways, Jean is always drawing this lady with long black hair, and I think it’s Eren’s sister, but I have no clue. He’s obsessed with drawing her though, and truthfully, I’m kinda jealous. I don’t dare ask him to draw me though, that would be awkward, and bossy.  Jean and I have resumed sitting next to each other, but we’re usually quiet because art class is art class and we have assignments we need to do. It’s not an awkward silence, but I’m aware of his actions. I still keep a close watch on him.

It’s been a week since Jean’s apology to everyone. Things have been great, we really haven’t done much, but we went out to ice cream after school one day and everything was picture perfect. The outside-of-art-class Jean was gone completely, and the Inside-of-art-class Jean was now working 24/7.  It was wonderful. I think everyone was relieved, actually.

People throughout the room were quietly talking, and Jean was once again drawing his pretty lady he always drew. “So, Freckles,” He began, and I looked up from my drawing of some kind of dog.

“Stop calling me that,” I said with a smile, and Jean did some weird hand gesture.

“Ah, whatever, so, you got any plans Friday?”

“When do I ever have plans unless they involve you?” I laughed, and Jean stuck his tongue out at me.

“Whatever, you get my point. So we’re planning to go to a college party up on Mitras,” Jean said, still busily scribbling away, much like Armin in the mornings when he was rushing to finish his homework. Mitras? That’s the university that Ymir and Mikasa go to, right? It’s across the city, about a twenty-minute drive.

“That’s the university?”

“Yeah,” Jean nodded, “They’re having it at one of the houses on campus. I’ve been to a few,” Jean looked up at me, and by now I was making nervous noises. A party? Marco Bodt doesn’t do parties. Loud noises, drunk people, high people, people in general. Lack of a safe place to sleep. I swallowed thickly, “Since Ymir’s van only has so many seats, I’ll probably just take my motorcycle there.” I stared at him nervously, causing Jean to roll his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

“I’m not really the most sociable, Jean...”

Jean snorted in amusement, “Yeah, yeah, okay...” Jean joked, shaking his head. If only he knew. “But you’ll be there with us.” I didn’t even know my friends went to parties. Armin doesn’t seem like the guy who would go, neither does Bertholdt. But I guess I could see the others going. Sasha and Connie are party animals after all. I shrugged.

“I don’t think my mom will let me.” I said, loving that excuse at the moment. Maybe my mom’s strictness will come in my favour.

“Haven’t you heard of sneaking out?”

I looked at Jean slack-jawed. Sneaking out? Sneaking out was not my thing. Doing anything rebellious was not my thing. I could never disobey my mom, never, ever. I’d feel awful. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s freaking me out!” Jean said with a laugh, then paused, tapping his chin in thought. He sighed heavily, “Okay, okay, listen to this. Just tell your mom you’ll be going over my place, and don’t tell her about the party, and it won’t really be disobeying if you go.”

Oh Jean Kirschstein, that is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard but it’s strangely convincing. It doesn’t feel right, but yet I kind of want too. Just a little bit. Just for an experience, just for Jean, but yet I’m really nervous. Jean raised an eyebrow at me, “Is it a plan, freckles?”

I don’t like social situations. I’m mentally unstable and I could embarrass myself in front of people I don’t even know plus my friends. I couldn’t hurt someone. I could hurt myself. I could lose friends. I’ll regret it if I say yes. I’ll want to go home and sleep after an hour.

I’ll hurt someone. I could hurt Jean.

“It’s a plan, Jeanbo.”

Shit. Why did I say that.

**XXX**

Before I knew it Friday had come. I had nervously asked my mom if I could sleep over Jean’s, and he picked me up at 9PM, and the nerve wracking drive to the college campus began. Apparently now that I was ‘sneaking out’ and sleeping over Jean’s, I could no longer ride with the others, but in Jean’s motorcycle.  I wasn’t even afraid because of the damn party, but holy shit, a motorcycle. Marco Bodt doesn’t do motorcycles, but I didn’t do parties and now I do, so screw it.

“Jean, where are the seatbelts?” I had asked, and in return, he just started laughing hysterically. Apparently there are not seatbelts on motorcycles.

And yes, it was fucking terrifying. We had to go through the city, so the threat of a car disobeying a traffic light were higher, and I could have died, and I still cannot beileve there is no seatbelt. Everything was so much louder on a motorcycle then in a car, and I had nothing to grab onto except Jean, but I didn’t want to distract him from driving by squeezing him to death. I would have squeezed him to death if my common sense wasn’t getting in the way. But I was hugging him pretty tight, trying to bury myself in his jacket to distract myself with his perfection. Every time the motorcycle stopped, Jean would laugh and tell me to ‘Calm the fuck down’. No way I was calming down unless I was standing on my two feet and safe.

Thankfully when we pulled into campus, Ymir’s van was just pulling in as well. Thank god I don’t need to go on a scavenger hunt for my other friends, as I needed as many people as I could to distract me from drunken college kids.

The house was huge.

Well, huge to a certain amount. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was big. I thought the fear I felt on Jean’s metal death trap on two wheels was bad enough. I swallowed thickly, Jean giving me a sturdy pat on the back that made me jump. “Ready for your first party, freckles?” Jean cooed, his arm wrapping around my shoulders in a Reiner-like way, my dread multiplied because Jean couldn’t pick up on it. I wanted to hide behind him, I wanted him to protect me from the multicolored lights I could see in the windows, I wanted him to protect me from the big scary college kids, but that probably wouldn’t happen. Why did I say yes? I realized that I couldn’t back out now once I saw Connie and Sasha leap out of Ymir’s van and straight for Jean and I.

The first thing Sasha said was; “Jean, let me see your hair...” And Sasha began messing with it. Jean just let her. He had the worst helmet hair in the world and apparently it was annoying Sasha.

“Hey man, you okay?” Connie asked with a snort, patting my arm gently. I nodded. Why the hell did I nod? I am not okay. I’m not fucking okay.

The other’s followed, but I noticed Reiner and Bertholdt weren’t there. Apparently my assumption was right, Bertholdt does not like parties, so Reiner probably stayed home with him. I’m assuming. I really cannot see sweats-a-lot at a party. I can’t see myself at a party either, but i’m here.

Before I knew it Jean was no longer at my side. He was running in with Eren, yelling for Sasha and Connie to follow, but thankfully Jean’s position next to me was now taken by Armin Arlert. Well, at least I’m not totally alone. Armin was carrying a small bag, and maybe the most unamused expression I’ve ever seen.

“Hey Marco.”

“Hey Armin.”

We didn’t really need words, we just started walking in together. My other assumption that Armin wasn’t into parties seemed to be correct. He stuck by me, not even bothering to catch up to Eren, and he always bothered to catch up to Eren. “No Reiner and Bertholdt?” I asked, and Armin nodded.

“Yeah, Bertholdt backed out. I wanted to back out,” Armin huffed, shrugging his shoulders, before a smile peaked his lips. “Ah well.”

“I’m in the same boat,” I said with a small chuckle. My feet dragged against the cement, probably ruining my old sneakers.

“Hey, I uh, brought my 3ds, if you wanna play with me or something.” Armin said quietly, looking up at me with the most hopeful blue eyes I’ve ever seen, “Maybe I could show you my pokemon team?” My frown broke into a smile. Hell yeah, I’d love to see Armin Arlert’s nerdy-ass pokemon team. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Sure, Armin isn’t really the same as me, but he’s in the same boat i’m in right now. He might not be mentally unstable, but I’m pretty sure Armin will be able to keep me calm.

“Sure thing, sounds fun.” I said, and Armin smiled the biggest smile I’ve ever seen him put on. His orange turtleneck sweater really complimented his smile. I love making people smile, It feels like the greatest thing in the whole fucking world.

I quickly lost that feeling once I entered the building.

I almost fucking gagged. It smelt strongly of alcohol and smoke, and I wondered how the hell this was going on because almost everyone is under age. And it’s on campus. And it’s really loud.

There wasn’t as many people as I thought there would be, but the puke-colored carpet made me feel like there was a million people. Everything felt foggy, and misty, and I assumed that was due to people smoking god-knows-what. Maybe since I was an innocent virgin child I was making everything seem a million times worse in my head, but it was terrible to me. I heard Armin take a deep breath, and he grabbed me by the wrist.

“Lets not get separated,” He said.

I clenched his wrist back. “You got that right.”

“Wanna go find a corner?” He asked, putting on a smile even through his sour expression. I nodded in response, and Armin and I quickly began our journey to a secluded through the dancing teenagers and music to the corner to play pokemon in. I waved to the others, and they waved back.

In no time, Armin and I were sitting on the floor in a corner of the building, hunched over and watching the tiny little screen. I wish I had a 3ds, but it was fun to watch Armin play his nonetheless. We didn’t talk much, mainly because of the head-throbbing music and if we breathed in too much the dizzying smell of alcohol would enter our lungs. The only hope I held was that no one would ask us if we wanted a drink, and that Jean wasn’t drunk, because he’s my ride home. I can’t see Jean drinking, mainly because of his issues with his dad.

The only thing I didn’t like about hanging out with Armin was that neither of us were brave. I’d be more comfortable if Eren or Jean was with us, they would be able to curse and decline things, and I wouldn’t, and Armin probably wouldn’t. And there was no sign of neither Jean, or Eren, or Sasha, or Connie. It was just Armin and I, completely and utterly alone. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use the bathroom any time soon because I will not move from this spot unless Jean Kirschstein is escorting me out, hopefully sober. Mainly because a group of teenagers have gathered nearby and were drinking in a little huddle, and neither of us wanted to walk through that.

It was scary. I was trying to distract myself with the game, and it was working, but if I even thought about the millions of possibilities that could happen to me right now I was frozen by fear. I could be raped, I could be killed, I could be glared at, I’m right out in the open, only protected by a little gaming system that isn’t even mine. There are scars on my wrists that could be seen at any moment, my signature nice-smile could be destroyed at any moment.

Armin and I must have sat there for an hour, huddled together for protection, and truthfully I think Armin is finding protection in me. We don’t look like two seventeen-year-old boys at a party, we look like two ten-year-old girl scouts seeking shelter from each other in the rain. Eventually Armin was half on my lap and my arm was securely wrapped around his chest, and it felt really weird and nothing like when Jean Kirschstein hugged me, but it was pleasant. Armin is probably seeking protection from me, he doesn’t know I’m a nervous wreck, I’m six feet tall and I’m known in the school for stopping fights. I have an immense amount of body-heat and I have a bulky build so if I punched someone it would hurt. it’s no wonder he’s finding safety in me. And I don’t want to tell him that I’m probably the worst person to rely on because I’m a lying piece of shit who is crying behind half of my smiles.

We got so close to the point where I could hear his breathing. We probably looked like a couple. Sure, It was comforting, but I didn’t see it as a loving kind of thing. It felt like a nice, friendly cuddle, not anything like love. I don’t know if a friendly, ‘no homo’ cuddle exists for men, though. We were getting a few dirty looks, but I really didn’t care.

I would rather be in bed right now. I want to go to sleep but I don’t feel safe enough to go to sleep. Even with my head resting ontop of Armin’s, and Armin’s hair is soft and fluffy, and his back has been supporting me for at least thirty minutes, I can’t find the guts to drift off. I need to be hidden in my own bed to fall asleep.

“Hey Marco, you okay?” Armin asked, and it sounded like a whisper even though he was probably yelling, the music was way too loud.

“I’m good, you?”

“Pretty good,” I couldn’t hear Armin sigh, but I felt his back heave. “You don’t mind this, right?” I’m pretty sure he was talking about the fact that he was sitting on my lap, hugging one of my arms with his free hand. Of course I didn’t mind, hell, it was the only thing keeping me sane right now. Armin was no Jean, and I certainly didn’t feel romantic towards him, but still.

“I don't’ mind at all,” I said with a sigh, and Armin nodded. I felt him shift ontop of me, and eventually, I heard him whimper something. “What?” I asked, not sure what he said.

“I need to take a piss,” He said, and my lips broke into a smile despite my tummy filling with fear. C’mon, when anyone says they need to pee it’s funny, especially when this person has been sitting on you for a hour.

“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked, and Armin nodded nervously.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t want to walk around here alone either.” And so, we walked around, the two of us still holding onto each other's arms for comfort. We didn’t dare to ask anyone where the bathroom was, or make direct eye contact with anyone, even people that looked decent. My throat was actually kind of dry, but no way in hell was I touching any drinks here. Even tap water. It might be drugged or something. I feel like a little kid walking on the bad side of town, but not only that, I need to try and keep Armin safe from other’s as it’s clear he’s trusting me to do that.

Eventually, thank god, we found the bathroom. I waited outside for Armin, leaning against the wall as I tried to seem as menacing and as old as possible. I am a pretty big guy, so I doubt anyone would try to get in a fight with me, not that anyone had a reason too because I don’t plan on talking or looking directly at anyone.

I guess I forgot that fighting wasn’t my only threat.

‘The wild Marcous Bodticus is approached by two, strange female creatures.’

I hadn’t done a mental dialogue in a while, huh.

I immediately started to feel the fear seize me again as two girls locked eyes with me. College girls, but they weren’t much older then me. Eighteen, maybe. One brunette one blonde. Both probably drunk, judging on the way they walked. One was touching her hair and had her chest slightly puffed out, that is the sign of lust and pride which are not good combinations. I got that feeling that I wanted to sink into the floor again.

My heart felt like a caged bird trying to get out, and I wished it would so I’d fall on the floor and die, because in moments like this all I want to do is to get away. But I can’t, I can’t leave Armin here and hell, where do I go? Go find Jean or Eren and cower behind them? I just push myself into the wall behind me the closer they get, and eventually I could not go into the wall anymore and one of them was already on top of me.

“Hey there,” The brunette one said, and her slurred voice came out to punch me in the gut and knock the air out of me, and not in a good way.

“H-Hi,” I somehow managed to choke out.

“What’s a handsome man like you doing here all alone?” She purred out the word ‘handsome’ as if it were a joke, and the two girls giggled in a way only a drunk person could. I knew what this was, I wasn’t attractive, like, at all, but they were searching for someone who was alone and wasn’t going to put up a fight. The only fight I could put up was stutters and shy begging. Armin, please come out of there. It’s only been a good two seconds but please Armin, please come out of there. My legs are shaking like bad, and I know if this goes any farther I’ll break and hell, I could probably kill this girl if she triggers me somehow. I don’t want to hurt her, I’ll ruin myself if I do.

“I-I uh,” I stuttered, and I could feel her hips press against mine, and I tried not to grimace because I didn’t want to be rude, but I honestly find vaginas really gross and that’s exactly why I’m gay. I don’t like the way she feels against me, she’s small, and her bones are frail, she’s cold and she smells of beer. Jean Kirschstein felt nothing like this, Jean was warm, and comforting, and even though he was bony his grip was strong. I don’t like this. It’s sexual, and I feel disgusted. “Please don’t, I-I really..”

“Shh,” Her lips were skinny and pink, but nothing like Jean’s. They made me feel sick. Not all girls make me feel like this, hell, I don’t care what your gender is, but this one is about to sexually assault me so to me, she is a witch. The words came off her hips as if she was hissing at me like some foul monster, her friend just keeping watch like a little henchman. “Just kiss.”

“N-No, not just kiss-!” I murmured, my voice a little more frantic than before. Louder, but more pathetic, and it came as a reminder why Armin Arlert should not rely on me for comfort.

Oh no, Armin.

If he comes out and sees this, what the hell will happen? Will this girls friend attack him and suck the life out of him? Will he hate me? Things will become a million times more worse if Armin comes out here and suddenly I started praying he’d stay in there. I wish I stayed home, why the hell didn’t I stay home? My legs were starting to shake and I just wanted to fall to my knees and sob, but this girls weight was keeping me up. Her breath was so foul it felt like I was plain out drinking vodka, and I felt bad for thinking ‘Disgusting’. I shouldn’t hate, but I do. She’s got me cornered, She’s 5’8 and I’m 6’1, and she’s about to sexually assault me, and I’m trying weakly to get her off for her own fucking good.

“Yes kiss,” She whispered, and I started to force my lips together so there was no possible way she could wriggle her tongue in there if she tried. I told myself not to move, and I froze in place. If I don’t move, she can’t do anything to me that’s too bad. Then she’ll get the picture and she’ll leave. It’s not only the fact that I’m gay, it’s that nobody has ever been this close, and it hurts.

Her shoulders were back, her eye contact was unbreaking. That means dominance.

Her lips were parted slightly. That meant lust.

I was suddenly regretting my intense studying of body language, because it was only making my heart beat even harder. I couldn’t stop swallowing, and by now my sweating was probably breaking Bertholdt’s record. My fingers were pulling on my sleeves and trying to rub the scars in a pathetic attempt to calm myself down. My legs were basically clenched together, no way I was separating them, no way in hell I was inviting her to rub herself against me.  

“C’mon baby, how about I take you home?” She uttered, and I swallowed thickly about a million more times in a row, and I could tell my adams apple was probably doing a dance up and down my neck, but did I care? No. I cared about getting her away from me, trying to keep up the wall that kept my attacks back.

“N-No, ma’am, I-I..” I murmured behind closed lips, no way I was letting her snake her devilish tongue in my mouth.

Her skinny, gross fingers were going down my chest. I hoped she could feel my ramming heart and realize she was human, and leave me alone. I felt like her soft fingertips were ripping holes in my chest.

I heard the bathroom door open, briefly glancing over to see Armin exit. I didn’t stare at him long enough to get his reaction. I didn’t want to see.

The hands were no longer on my chest. They were on my stomach, hips.

The girl pressed against me gave a strong squeeze to my thigh.

Something in my head snapped. The wall  is falling in my head  and there is nothing I can do to stop it. At this point, all I can do is give into the animal-instinct to escape.

And with that, I slapped her across the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always end chapters with a single sentence, why is that? 
> 
> Marco's a dumb shit and he doesn't know that a motorcycle with a seat belt is the worst possible thing in the world
> 
> Sorry for the shittiness of this one *^*  
> I really appreciate the comments and kudos! Thank you so much *v*~

**Author's Note:**

> shit  
> ah
> 
> i'm bad at writing  
> I write too many fanfictions at once shit  
> IM ALSO BAD AT TITLES SORRY


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